#I've also lost all concept of time and barely know what day it is but whatever

[astracora]

EVER's Tool

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (Sylus POV/MC POV)

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Spoilers for multiple anecdotes and all current story.

Word Count: 10348

Written: 10th January 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. A lil AU almost, set after cat curse and turning point. I had the mental image of EVER making MC into a personal weapon, using the fact their memories reset so it's easier to manipulate them. I also think about the line that 'sincere emotions are hard to forget', and how the LADs are basically EVER's worst problem when it comes to controlling them. As a side note, I fucking hated Leon when I read the anecdotes, so so much. The creepy way of calling a child 'little bomb' just set me wanting him smacked in the face. So I'm channelling that dislike into ruining his day. The way I screenshotted so many main story things to pull into this. It's upsetting... I had to double check so much stuff cause I have a terrible memory. My final lil note is I have no idea how MC's resonance works, but there was a line in one of the anecdotes that EVER wanted it to absorb Xavier's, so I've run with the concept.) I have no idea if anyone else will care about this lil brain thread, but hey, have at ye. Will there be more? Gods only know. Now I can finally sleep its 2am and my brain refused to let me rest.

Now Playing: Bite Marks, by League of Legends (ft TEYA)

Masterlist AO3

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Missing for months now… He's reached out to every source he can find. Has sent Mephisto all over Linkon, the N109 Zone, beyond.

He has looked in every shadow, every dark hole he can find. He has searched and searched, and still found no trace of you. He has never felt this powerless, this lost, to have all the resources of Onychinus and still unable to find answers to the only question he really cares to have answered.

How can you have disappeared? Vanished on him, on them, when you have built a life together? The house has emptied, the halls are quieter, the bedroom you all share is hard to sleep in.

It is like they have acquired ghosts. Griefs that will not rest, that cannot settle… because they have no answers. No response, no way to seek you out to soothe open wounds, and apply salve to scars.

He cannot stop, he cannot stop looking. He looked for you through time, and space, he will not stop now.

If you are out there, he will find you, and bring you back home. To them.

He did not vow and share his soul with you, to lose you.

He has spent most of his days looking, and searching. When he is not forcing himself to keep being Onychinus' leader, he barely sleeps for investigating. If he stops for a moment he thinks of an empty bed, and cold sheets. Of limbs no longer tangled with his. Of fingers no longer soothing through his hair.

Sylus cannot bring himself to tremble and to crumble, he does not have time. Not when the answer has fractured his home. His loved ones.

He watches Xavier hunt, carry out his job. Kill and fight. Mindless and driven, because he wants to protect the Linkon you cared about too. He wants to keep his blade busy, so that his mind does not wander. Then, Sylus knows he searches and he looks. Under rock, across desert, in the mountains. Everywhere his missions take him, he searches.

He comes home empty handed, and tired, but never seems to sleep properly anymore. Restless and unsettled, no matter how often someone soothes his hair and holds him. Xavier sits in the cycle that Sylus knows they cannot break.

He has tried to reach out to Rafayel, the fish beached and unbreathing. He sits in his art room and stares at paintings he cannot finish. Empty canvas and snapped paintbrushes. There are days, he tears them, dry sobs in his chest, eyes burning for tears he can't quite shed. He splatters paint up walls, and stares at what remains. His hands cut and torn from violent actions.

He finds no inspiration, and he ignores all of Thomas' calls, and he sits as the doctor tends to damaged skin, and clings to hands to keep himself grounded. Whispering things that he doesn't want them to hear. Fears of it being his fault. They can only respond with tight arms, and affirmation. It is not, they're sure. It is not.

He watches Zayne pick up more shifts than he should handle, only home when forced to be. Sinking into work, and sleeping in call rooms. When he does return, he waters plants you have left behind, feeds the cats outside the house that seek you out, and keeps your things neat. He traces trembling fingers over photo frames, looks through albums, and reminds himself. So he can stop mistaking every hunter he sees as you.

His sleep is more uneven, and he trembles awake with nightmares, hands reaching out for comfort, and clinging to chests to cry. To weep, to shake. He cannot find solace no matter where he looks, and Sylus can only offer presence and love because he does not know where the solace is found either.

His home is torn and hurting, and he cannot fix it. He will not stop trying to fix it.

He has to fix it.

It is a late night, ninety-two days after your disappearance, when Mephisto's feed flashes. He watches, and he waits, and he sees a flash of familiar white hair and jagged scar down your cheek, through your mouth.

His hand tremours in front of the screen, as he reaches out with tentative fingertips. As though he can reach through it, and pull you through…

His legs force him up before he can second guess himself, before he can waver on the edge of unsurity. Before he can hesitate to long to miss you. He calls the prince, and he leaves. On the first winds of hope, since you vanished.

—-----

The prince stands alert outside the building, while Sylus breaks in. It is old and condemned, the same kind of building that collapsed down around you. Landed you in hospital as they put you back together.

It is not a place he would normally spend his time at. Yet he trusted Mephisto's eyes better than he trusted most things.

The perks of a robotic bird, that he has upgraded even further after your disappearance. Desperate, though he isn't sure he can admit that. Not without falling to pieces, as he digs and he digs and he searches.

Sylus is quiet as he ascends floors, his mist drifting up walls and through broken door frames. Seeking and searching for the familiarity he can never mistake. No matter how many floors he climbs, he cannot feel you. Cannot seek out the sparks of gold he knows so well, and the soul that cannot complete without his. He finally approaches the final door, and pushes it open. An apartment in ruins, but the smell of acrid blood hits him. Familiar and cloying. It does not appeal to his sense, nor to his hunger.

He looks at the walls, where blood has splattered, across the floor where bloodstains mark it. There is a body, throat cut, arm torn partially off. It takes him a second to assure that it is not you, but it is a second too long. The fear drops his heart before he can pick it back and place it where you placed your own.

Approaching the body, he cares little for the blood on his hands as he rummages through pockets, inspecting the wounds. Another stab mark through the temples. A dagger, curved. Familiar. He's seen it before. Designed by the fish, for you to use, adjusted lightness for the metal of your arm. Replacing the trusty claymore he used to witness you swinging with abandon.

Cleaving through enemies.

Cleaving through him.

He presses his fingers against it, assuring himself that he is not seeing what he wishes to. It would not be the first time he has caught glimpses of you in shadows, in alleys and chased the ghast. It is never you, it is always a cut into an already fragile heart, and he rights himself quickly.

To keep moving forwards.

This, however, he is not mistaken about. So he takes photos, sends them to the fish to evaluate, to the prince to be on guard. That someone is here, with your dagger. If it is not you, it has been stolen from you.

He will greatly enjoy cleaving through whoever has taken something precious to you. To lay their dirty hands on something that is theirs. His home, his family.

Footsteps approach him, and he hears a song he knows is yours. The notes though, they are buried in dust. The tune is not familiar. Your feet shouldn't make that noise, your heart is too familiar to him to be mistaken. To be misheard.

He whirls as a knife flies past his head. Stabbing into the broken sofa behind him. Sinking into moulding fabric. Releasing a smell he wishes he hadn't experienced. It fills the air as you step forwards, twirling a dagger around your fingers like he knows you've seen him do.

Like he taught you when you poked fun at him, asked him how he made it move so smoothly.

'Is it a crime lord aesthetic thing?'

'You have quite an image of me.'

'Am I wrong?'

'You just haven't looked closely enough.'

You are a flash of light, and a chill. A ghostly vision against the dilapidated backdrop. The dagger is dripping blood with each spin, splattering it against the floor and against your clothes. Black and loose. Harness over shoulder and around your chest.

You look as you should, jagged scars and crooked lips, mismatched eyes, arm of meta-

His eyes halt and hold on your form, there is no metal. He looks at the twisted carapace of a wanderer. Segmented into a limb, and long clawed fingers. Sylus feels as though he is staring at his own limb, long ago. When his claws could cut through your flesh with ease, and he could not feel the heat of your skin properly through his own.

It is black and twisted and cracked. Like a well used tool.

It is not yours.

It is not yours.

Yours was silver, painted by the fish, well worn and trusted. A tool as well as a part of you. A shield and a weapon in one.

It could trace his face gently, and swing a dagger with ease.

This is not yours.

The chill that you bring becomes ice down his back. It feels like the cut of a sword through his skin. Tears away at flesh and bone. Your eyes are empty, there is nothing in them but the glow of a gold he recognises. The resonance lurking under skin like a serpent waiting to strike. He levels his look on the dagger, and then back to your eyes. Seeking something out. Seeking you out.

You're in there, you have to be in there.

"Did you forget to check your phone, kitten?" He manages, but his voice is weak and cracked. He wants to grab you, to tell you it's fine, as long as you're safe now. He reaches out, and barely pulls his hand back quick enough before the dagger slices through where it was.

You tilt your head, then look down on the floor, "I was curious to know who sought out my target." The smile is crooked, it's wrong, it's twisted at the edges and broken. Like the horns he cut off years ago. "You're not on my list though."

It's a dismissive shrug, and a turn away. As though he is a stranger… as though he means nothing.

He barely holds the growl, though he is not angry, he advances on you, moving himself out of the way when your dagger darts out again. "Claws out kitten? Watch it, you could hurt someone." He manages, voice low, but pulling his tone to heel. He looks down at you. Reading at the empty gold glow, looking for something. Anything.

Disgust even, if there is disgust… you know of him.

There is nothing. Empty and cool. The abyss he should recognise but it is nothing he has seen before. Like you are missing. Like your body is empty.

You look back at him, unflinching, unbothered, watching him stare at you. It is the EVER symbol on your collar, he notices, it is like a brand against you. It is the flaming fury in his chest. It is not you.

It is them.

"Are you done?" You offer, stepping back out away from him, so he grabs your arm. The twisted skin against his flesh. Warm and pulsing under, but hard as stone. It is a painful thing to touch. It is not yours.

He looks at it, stares, and as he goes to speak, you tug it away from him. Spin, and kick him in the side.

The force makes him see stars for a moment, falling to knees. He gasps before he rights his body, before he forces adrenaline into his veins to catch the next kick you aim at him. The gold glitters under your skin, as you attack, and the leg he catches shakes his limbs. Throwing it away from him, as you spin and back away.

Sylus stands, and advances as you back up further, "That wasn't particularly nice, Kitten, we were having a chat."

"You shouldn't grab someone you don't know. It's impolite." You growl back, showing canines, and narrowing cool eyes at him.

Don't know.

He almost laughs.

He knows you, more than he knows himself. He knows you because you are part of him. He has lived with questions for who he is all of his life, has struggled to decide who he should be and who he is. You? You he knows.

He knows every piece of you, inside and out. He will always see you.

This is not you.

This is them.

"Then we should get to know each other." The words burn to say, and he reaches his hand out, ready to pull you to him. With skin, with mist. He cares little. He will capture you again, and he will make you wake up from whatever nightmare EVER have placed you in.

"I have orders, you're not part of them." You incline your head. He's used to a smile accompanying such an action, a tease, a lilt in your voice. Yet you are flat.

Then with the elbow of the wanderer's limb, you smash the window… and fall back.

He follows, on quicker feet than he has ever moved, melding into mist. Over the edge of the fall, watching you fall back. He has caught you so many times in his life. On the winds, with his wings, with his EVOL. He has followed you over the edge of many cliffs.

He will follow you over any others.

As he reaches out, you twist, hand on his wrist, pulling and turning, so that his back is to the impending floor. "You're determined." You snarl, actually snarl at him. His EVOL catches the dagger you aim for his chest, pushing it back, and he grabs your other arm, keeping the claws from closing around his throat.

You sink your teeth into his hand, biting down hard enough to draw blood, tearing at his flesh like he is a piece of meat you could devour.

The pain shoots up his arm, but it's not important. His wounds can heal, and while you can kill him, you have not levelled that fiend blade at his chest yet. Getting you back is all that matters, no matter the blood seeping down his wrist. You have bitten him before. You have come for him with daggers. You have shot him in the heart. Stabbed him through his joined heart. Cursed him.

Every drop of his blood that you bleed is another drop that belongs to you.

"Want to mark me that badly?" He laughs. He can only hope the prince has rested enough to hear the shattering glass. That he is still capable of hunting.

Your resonance bursts out of the wrist he holds in his mist, shattering it, and you kick, pulling away. Reaching out with claws to grab at the building. Grooves left behind you, as you slow your descent, he watches the gold shimmer again. Watches as the limb hardens further, claws thicker, digging deeper.

Spitting blood from your mouth, as you do.

He slows, balances himself. Without wings he cannot hover, can only slow his descent by a margin. His mist reaches out to yank you back. Into arms that cage around you, tighten around ribs he would normally be scared to break.

He holds, tight, and squeezes as much as he can. He feels you writhe, an angry cat held in a grip you do not want. Clawing and scratching. Willing to draw blood to escape. He feels the jagged claws of your hand grab at his wrist, digging into his flesh, tearing. Your EVOL bursts, and shatters, but it cannot shatter his bones, and he keeps the grip as you fall with him, as he ties you to gravity with him.

"Get off!" You growl, fury in your tone, and he's glad to finally see something from you. Some spark of who you are, even if it's angry and violent and vicious.

He sees a flash of light reflected off the glass of the buildings, and then he is caught and swiftly righted. Alongside a curse, and a huff.

Sylus turns to Xavier, who makes to speak before his eyes focus on you. Yowling and clawing. He reaches out a hand, only to have it knocked back by mist, "Don't. Your wounds don't heal like mine."

You snarl, "No, go on, let me slice you up." Claws flexing against the flesh you're serrating.

He'll heal. The pain is harsh, and burning. He's fought wanderers, but they don't have your mind. The knowledge of where to slice, the strength behind your anger.

"Starlight?" Xavier's voice does not waver often, he is used to seeing things that have hurt him. He has killed people who once followed him, he has fought those that were his loved ones. He has blood on his hands that burn to feel, but can never be washed off. Now, he wavers, watching someone who wears your face, but hisses and snarls to bite and snap. To cut and rip.

You kick back, into Sylus' shin. He avoids the second one, he knows is aimed to break his leg. Squeezes harder to creak your ribs. "EVER did something to them." He manages, using the mist to move the mark on your collar so Xavier can see it. He watches a jaw tick, the muscles jumping, blue starry eyes turn to ice, and focus on the point.

"We need to get them back." The prince approaches, and Sylus tightens his arms once more. If you have to be knocked out to get you back, well he can live with that. He's done it before. Hand around your throat, watching the life flickered in your eyes. Can your disgust hurt him more than the lack of any personal acknowledgement?

It is too soon for him to think, as you let out a snap of teeth at the prince, then smash your head back into his nose. The pain jolts up into his skull, so you reach your hand up, grab him by the hair and yank, then snap back one more time.

He's fought you before, he knows you. He knows you can beat him, he's been pinned by you in a test match before. Watching the glee in your eyes, seeing the fire at your victory. He has watched you practice swordsmanship with the prince. He has seen you cross daggers with the fish.

Everytime, you are cunning, you are ready to win. Everytime joy lights up your face if you succeed. Thrilled and happy to learn and improve. Crooked smile and bright eyes as you thank them for taking time for you to clash with.

It is not joy that lights your eyes, it's savage and it's gleaming. You do not extend your hand, or press a kiss to his cheek in your victory. You let him fall away from you, as blood sprays, and then you reach out with a clawed hand to rip at the prince's chest.

As soon as both have stumbled back, you turn, and you disappear.

Sylus' patience is strong. He has lived a long time, waiting, and living, and managing. It is when he has his prize so very close, that his desperation comes through. It was moments where he asked if you truly wanted him. Voice trembling and begging.

To touch, to taste, to hold, to seek pleasure with.

It was times when he had found you at last, growing impatient to feel your resonance against him. Moving too quickly, too desperately. Seeking memories locked behind a seal. Greedy for his beloved to look into his eyes and see someone worthy of flowers again.

It is the moments where he waits for your missions to end, and the message that you are returning, that he can no longer sit still.

It is when he saw your new home for the first time, a life built where he was not a monster, a family where he had nothing. Need bubbling to the surface to paint it in colours and fill it with song.

His patience has held until the last moment where relief is in sight. That it shatters, and it demands.

As he holds his bloody mangled arm, and spits blood on the floor, it breaks into shards. As he reaches out to Xavier, checking the wound, turning his face to check for others, he tears his already torn shirt to hold to the jagged claw marks.

As his fingers tremble and he shakes at where he is holding, he reaches for where his patience has gone and finds a small boy with broken horns. The absence of his calm, built on the back of his agony, lost to the fear and the doubt that circles his head.

It is the memory of the empty eyes, and the snarl that he can still hear in his head, the warm body in his hands, even though you had not been you.

You were finally so close, and now you are gone.

A hand tightens over his, the prince pulling his focus, and reaching up through the pain to ease tears that can't fall out of his eyes, "They're alive. We can find them again." He bites out, warming the chill in Sylus' hands, and waking him from the nightmare.

He will, and he'll melt every EVER building until he does. Rip the rot out by the roots, and become what Philos sneered at him for. A calamity.

Their evil is similar, afterall.

—------

He does not find any joy or relief in the information he brings back. As he watches the doctor stitch Xavier closed. Waving off his assistant. He eases the pain with his EVOL. Part of him wants to feel it, a reminder. You were there, he had you, and he let you go.

It does no one any good for him to be useless, or deeply wounded. So while the moon is still high, he repairs the damage, pushing his nose back into place. You'd told him it was beautiful, he hopes you still thought so when you returned. As the blood stops, and his wounds close, he leaves the room to shower.

The heat as high as it can go, to sear his flesh. It leaves his skin pink, as he finally turns the water off. Seeking out clothes that don't bear the ruins of your violence. When he returns to the living room, the prince's stitches are complete and bandaged, and the fish is looking at the photos he sent.

Before you tore at him like a beautiful and horrifying monster.

Had it been you, he would have welcomed your dagger and your claws.

He will not die to EVER's machinations. They will not make you their tool.

When he dies it will be because you have chosen willfully to cut through his chest and his joined heart. It will be your choice to sever your curse, and scatter his soul to the wind like the petals of deadly flowers.

Sylus eases himself into the sofa, leaning back and taking the fish's head into his lap with ease. Fingers finding purple locks and smoothing them out as they look at the photos.

He won't comment on Rafayel's feline-like purrs. He is too tired and worn. His heart hurts more than his arm did. "It was really them?"

"It was kitten, alright… Their body at least."

Zayne helps Xavier ease into a new shirt, cool hands sliding down sore skin, and turns his head to speak, "You think EVER are controlling them?"

The fish snorts, eyes narrowing, flames at his fingertips, "Is it surprising, after everything they've done?"

"That wasn't my question. Nothing they do at this point would surprise me, but controlling a person is…" The doctor flinches, and Sylus can see it. The image of you. Cold eyes, claws extended, tearing through Zayne's jugular. Blood splattering over your face, but you don't blink, or flinch. Simply move onto the next.

"Their eyes were empty, doctor. They didn't recognise or care when they saw me or the prince. They wanted to hurt us to escape… They didn't care how."

He finishes with the shirt and rubs at his forehead, trying to ease a headache that brews. It is better a headache, Sylus thinks, than him focusing on the aching pain in his chest. The fear of someone being broken by EVER. Experiments that defy morality. That twist and snap and destroy anything worthy of protecting.

That left him with twins, bearing scars. Inside and out. Who thought death would be an entertainment worthy of hunting for great prey.

That made you a child with a broken heart and a grandmother who didn't look close enough at what she did to you. Her morality flexible, because of your broken, twisted memory.

The doctor is a moral man, who believes in the power of medicine and science to save and protect the sanctity of life. That has rejected every offer for using his knowledge to twist that boundary. Who stares into the face of loss and believes dying in control of yourself, is better than living as a ghost or beast. Who has healed every wound you have held, and stitched up every injury.

Who nurses your heart, no matter how fragile it can be, or how much work it is.

What EVER stand for is so strongly opposed to the doctor, that Sylus can watch the tick in his jaw. The pain in his eyes. The tremble in his hands. The snowflakes drifting from fingertips, and the chill arching up his hands.

Rafayel removes himself from Sylus' lap, reaching over with heated hands and takes icy ones. Easing the cold back slowly, as the doctor fights for control over an EVOL that is soothed by you. It is a slower process with the fish, but it is worth it, as the chill recedes and the heat returns to the doctor's skin.

His trembling slows before it ceases, and he removes his glasses to rub his eyes, "Thank you."

The fish shrugs, sitting down next to him, ready just in case he is needed. Sylus looks down at his hand, flexing it in his lap, as he thinks about you taking his hand, pulling him forwards. No matter who he has been or will be, your hold has not wavered. It is his job to pull you back.

"We have a target." The prince exhales after downing a glass of water, looking over at him, and he nods, thinking. He can narrow down the search, look for traces, documents, records. EVER have always been simple to understand. Their methods are outdated to gain traitors, their experiments never stopped, no matter the state of the N109 Zone. No matter what destruction they left in their wake.

So he just has to find the thread back to you. While he has no intention of bloodying the doctor's hands, he has a fish who has killed those responsible for his people's suffering, a prince who has hunted any who dared raise a blade to you, and himself. A dragon whose treasure has been ripped out of his palms.

It is a foolish mortal that steals from a dragon.

—--------

Your return to their compound is slower after you've exercised that new EVOL you had been fed. It sticks in your maw, like a bitten on bone. It is uncomfortable, untrained, and aching. Your shoulder aches, your arm is covered in blood, and you need to clean your dagger.

The door swings open as you push through, slamming your fist on the wall to find the light. It brightens the room and you look down. Muscle and flesh in the grooves of your arm, sticking into the carapace. Stuck under segments. The feeling is a violent rejection. You rip the thing from you, throwing it across the room so that it smashes an unused lamp. Splattering some of the gore across the scientists whiteboard.

It is not really satisfaction at the viscera painting pristine EVER surfaces, but it is something. Or it is until a throat clears behind you.

"Little bomb, you should really behave yourself in the labs."

The feeling turns to biting fear, before you grab it by its throat and remind it. You do not fear foolish men. You do not cower to his slimy, disgusting voice. You do not run, or hide. You are not a child.

He is nothing.

You are a weapon.

"I don't recall you being the one I answer to, Leon."

You move through the room, seeking out the sink, and splashing water over blood on your clothes with one hand.

"Is the new attachment that unpleasant?" He points, indicating the weapon you had thrown. "If you want something better, we can provide it?"

The scoff isn't entirely in your control, but it does narrow the man's eyes, "You can't provide me much of worth Leon, don't act like you have any more power here than I do. It just needs cleaning. Drop it in a bucket. I'll care about it later."

"You're in a worse mood than normal, did you even carry out your orders?"

You round, dagger in hand and flick its tip under his soft throat, the tip pricking into skin, and bare canines, "When have I ever failed a job?"

He watches your hand, the dagger, then looks into cool, icy eyes. You can feel the resonance flickering, angry, uncontrolled. It is always harder to control some days. Like the sensations and the feelings are too hard to read, too uneven. You think about it failing when that man with white hair had you in his grasp. Refusing to help you break, to make yourself stronger. The panic of being held, the anger at being weak, the fury that breathed fire into your chest.

You do not know who he is, but you will slit his throat if he shows his face to you again. Tear his throat open with your teeth and drown in his blood.

"Kitten, tch." You hiss, pulling away from the scientist watching you with fear flickering in his gaze. "Starlight… What world do they belong to?" You spit at the floor, clearing more blood that still feels caught in your teeth.

"Seriously? Can you stop that?" Leon looks down at the blood now splattered on the floor, mixed with saliva.

"Clean it up if you're so unhappy. I'm going to clean this mess off me." You push past him, heading deeper into a compound that does not feel like anywhere you want to be.

"Stop, you have another order."

"Give it to me later."

"I'm here now, little bomb. You may as well listen."

It bubbles, it burns. You despise him, you don't really know why. You looked him in the eye when you opened yours for the first time and hatred and disgust and fear, embedded so deeply in your chest that you almost threw it up onto him. Leon greets you with his greying temples, and his sickening glimmer in his eyes as he stares at you, and he calls you little bomb.

It tears at your nerve and chews at your heel.

You want to tear his throat out, but you won't drink his blood. He is sullied, and disgusting…

But you have orders.

"What is it?"

"A doctor, he's wanted to do work here."

"Then offer him money, and immortality, I'm sure he'll jump at the chance." You spit again, this time aiming for Leon's shoes.

He rubs a hand over his face in response, looking at you like he is seconds away from locking you in a cage. You want him to try. The feeling is under your skin.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

It simmers and burns and you want to cut and rip.

If he wants to try to tame your fury, he is welcome to try. To send you to one of EVER's toy boxes. To jolt you, and burn you, to remind you who holds the leash. Maybe the pain will shake out the feeling in the back of your gut. Maybe they'll put you in a ring, and watch you fight someone else like you. A tool, a weapon. Maybe you'll let someone pierce your chest for once. Spilling blood over the floor. Seeking escape in the splattered walls.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

It lurches in your brain, words you don't remember, and irritation that has no place. "What on earth happened out there?" Leon finally asks, watching you wary. Good. Wary is good. Wary is careful.

"Your target had friends." You snap, dagger twirling around the skin of your hand, unbothered when it catches on fingers that don't move fast enough. The pain grounds you, washes out the voices, so you run a finger over the blade, and watch the scientist. He looks away from the blood and you almost have to laugh.

He can torture you, but he doesn't want to watch you bleed on his floor.

"Did you deal with them?"

"They weren't on my list."

"If they were there-"

This time you do nic his neck, dagger fast. His EVOL is worthless, pointless, and has no way to stop you. Not like the mist, not like it curling around your wrist like warm fingers.

"I follow my orders, Leon. They weren't on the list." His blood trickles down his neck and the scent is sour. So you push him away, turning and walking off, even though he protests, hand covering his throat, "Send me the name. I'll capture him."

The walk through the compound is full of people whose names you cannot remember, whose faces you see every time your feet carry you through halls. There are rarely new faces, a close iron grip held over tools in a grand scheme. The dagger twirls and twists, and you are given a wide berth.

Unicorn, Subject 001. It is an easy title to hold. Thanks to it hanging around your neck like a noose, you are unbothered by others. It is like you are a beast that they keep their chains around, but no one is willing to feed you from their hand.

They would rather throw flesh through the bars, and run away.

It is fear and disgust, you muse. As it should be. As if any of them are better than you.

It is bitter hatred that bites at your heels, that reminds you of every experiment, of every time waking up on a cold table, chest flayed as you are dug around in. Heart pressed and prodded.

It is your orders that keep you off that table. You are useful now. If you stay useful, you don't have to wake up in a cage.

It is the closest you can get to relief here, as though the sick doesn't swirl in your stomach still. There is no one to seek out for help, you are alone.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

Your snarl is unbidden, and you shake your head like a cat trying to shake out fleas. As if that will shake out the ghost of voices, for fools who get in your way. Bright red molten eyes, tinged in glossy tears, and star blue constellations, gazing at you in wonder.

No one has looked at you like that.

The scientists have stared at you in greed, in hunger, with curiosity. But it is not wonder, it is hungry and cruel and brings pain.

You stomach and you move forwards.

These voices will fade, you will not see red and blue eyes again, and you will forget the curling mist. 

As you enter the room you have been given to clean yourself up, the photo on the side stares back at you. A man you do not recognise, but whose name is etched into the frame. Caleb, your family… You do not remember him, your memories do not summon him. He has died, they've told you. Cut out of your life by people who stand against EVER.

Your home destroyed, so now you stay here. In a compound with cold walls… and a box of a room that cannot be filled because you own nothing. Except a photo frame you have been handed, and the clothes you are to wear when working.

You think you feel grief at the concept of not having him. You think that there are moments where something aches so deep in your chest that you can't find an answer to it. Like you are missing something integral. Seeking something out, but can never find it.

Sometimes in the shadows, when you enter and forget to turn on the lights, you think you see plushies along pillows… you have seen some with them on their desks. They are not for you though, you do not even know where you'd begin to find one.

There is a cold broken feeling in your chest, whenever you turn the lights on and they are gone. Just a mirage from a mind you think is fractured by the tests. You don't know what the feeling is, but it hurts, so you move onto another job, and move forwards.

You wonder if Caleb would look at you with disgust, to see no recognition in your eyes, to see you, with dagger in hand and blood splattered over your mouth and face.

Or was he like you? A tool to be used.

It is a question that has no answer, the dead don't speak. You will never find out. You will never have a voice answer you back, questions you speak out loud, when the room is too quiet and too cold.

So you scald your skin with heat in the shower, and burn away the remnants of the memories of voices calling out for you, and the pain. As the blood rushes down the shower drain, and leaves you as close to clean as you can get.

—------

Leon is cleaning up the blood when you return to the lab to pick up your arm, it is hours later, but he seems harried. Hair falling out from where he normally slicks it back.

You debate saying something, but decide against it, especially when you see that the gore has been scrubbed from your arm. A job you did not wish to have to handle. Even thinking about it, makes you think of the feeling of muscle under your claws. The hissed pain through clenched teeth. The arms pressing around your ribs, tight but wary. Like you would break under them.

You strap it back on, and spin the dagger in practiced claws in relief. No nics, no cuts. You don't remember who taught you, you never taught yourself. It eases you though, something familiar. A motion that is practiced and quick.

"You can get a better weapon than that, you know." Leon sighs, standing, relieved to be finished removing the mess you'd spread. So that he experiments could continue on. His finger points over at the dagger in your claw and you watch as he throws cloth into bucket.

The way he looks at the dagger makes your hand clench around it, slipping it back into its sheath at your side, and glaring, baring canines. It feels like an open wound. To be separated from it. Like it is as much a part of you as… your arm…

Itching in the back of your neck, a feeling of wrongness. It is not your arm.

Silver, and painted. A beautiful red fish swimming over metal.

You shake your head, pulling away from Leon before he can get his hands near you, or near the tool at your waist.

It is yours. It cannot be replaced. "It's killed enough of EVER's targets to be a fine weapon. Perhaps you should be replaced instead."

The bite does not agitate the man, but it does satisfy the little voice asking you to snap him. A little. There is no response but you are done with him, until a question gnaws.

Like a little beast at your heel. Demanding something.

You're not quite sure what.

"Why won't the doctor join you?" You ask, pushing some equipment to the side none too gently to sit on a table.

"Stop throwing things around, we need those." Leon snaps, "Your temper is too short, little bomb."

Your laugh holds no humour, it is a choke of a noise, that means nothing, "You call me that, and expect my fuse to be long? Unluckily for you, Leon, you are the only one who doesn't fear to talk to me. So you are to bring me orders, and answer my questions. If your things are in the way, that's not my problem."

He rubs the space between his eyes, and for a moment you get a flash. Forests, and snowflakes. Drifting through branches and alighting on white petals. Blending, and freezing, then falling.

Pushing his glasses back up, he speaks, "He doesn't agree with the tests we are running."

"You think capturing him will help?"

"I think capturing him will make him less likely to help, but surely the order came for a reason."

You scoff, but shrug, "Can't imagine what they could offer him, that means enough to make him agree. I suppose all of you science types have a price though. Something they can tug at to make you abandon your souls."

His voice is cold when he speaks, and you watch the spark of irritation. It's rare, he tries to keep his calm false mask, but sometimes. You can poke and prod. Like he is a beast you want to see bite. White hair ruffled and soaked as he laughs through-

You blink, and Leon returns to his bespectacled brown hair, and brown eyes. He speaks but you don't hear, and you push off the table, waving a hand, "Whatever." You don't want to hear it anyway, whatever he has to say won't remove the scalpel. Won't ease scars that don't disappear.

Won't mean you can lay down a clawed arm of beasts that they experiment on.

You're not too different you suppose, if you were maybe your arm would have rejected your body. Demanding something closer to home. Instead it follows your demands, moves smoothly, easily. You were told it was the ideal weapon and tool, and using it has certainly made missions easier.

It does not mean you wish to see it more than you have to.

Fabric catching on the segments of hard stone-like skin. Every sensation through it feels like it's felt underwater. Distant and abstract. A picture you can't fully see.

You step through the hallways, flexing the clawed hand carefully, as you approach the testing rooms. Inside is the usual, an old man with goggles on his head, greying brown hair. Wrinkles. He pushes the goggles up as he looks over at you, "Phi, I need my check." You approach.

His chuckle is low, and he eases you. There is something about him that is familiar, against all other backdrops of the compound. This man is familiar.

Sometimes if you stare at him for long enough, you can hear his voice telling you to stay calm.

You're not sure what it means, if he was there during your hazy wake-ups that you barely remember. Just the pain of the pressure on your heart.

"The Unicorn has wandered over finally. Come on then, you're weeks late." He indicates the black reclining chair beside him.

It normally grates at you, Unicorn. It is not a name, it is a subject title. You don't remember if you've ever been called anything else though. If any other name has ever mattered to you.

'Kitten'

'Starlight'

'Cutie'

'Darling'

They swirl and then you shake, like a dog shifting water from its coat. You will not drown to voices.

The chair is cold to the touch as you lie back, but Philip's hands are steady and careful. He checks over you, scans with his tools, checks your EVOL levels. "How are the new additions?" When he asks, you can actually hear concern. It's rare… it's not offered often. He is here just to manage your health, to track it. Leon is here as your keeper.

He proclaims that he knows you best. His little bomb. His reason to be in that lab. The core in your chest is his proudest test subject.

You think about the 'additions'. EVOL's fed into your resonance, powering it, making it more useful. You think about the pain, the snarling voice that wishes to devour and swallow. You would tremble at the sensation of the heat in your core. The ripping and tearing. The gold enveloping, and the rippling power that explodes outwards.

Broken glass and twisted shards of metal.

You think about how hard they are to control.

You think about fiery red eyes watching you as you fall, and the resonance failing to come to your hand at will.

You think about heat from skin like a memory you could grasp if you tried hard enough.

You think about when it finally answered you, so you could leave the call of snapping beasts at heels behind.

Questions left unanswered. Blissful ignorance, so your heart does not shatter. You don't want to know the origin of the fever or the broken splinters.

There is nothing on the other end of the thread.

"Temperamental." You finally answer, "They're harder to control than just my resonance is. I can't call them at will."

He nods, jotting things down, as he reads. As you look at his goggles, you see a leather jacket reflected in it, but when you turn there is nothing there.

Perhaps not sleeping is leaving you as useless a tool as Leon is.

A problem to solve later, when you can finally chase out broken parts of your brain, and swallow something to ease the screeching behind eyelids.

"You need to practice with them."

You huff, turning your head away, "I didn't need to practice with my resonance, what kind of tool can't be used straight away?"

When he doesn't answer, you return your gaze to him, watching as the man frowns. Staring at his tablet, like it holds news he does not want to see, but the tablet is empty. "Phi?"

He looks up, wavering eyes, and tired bags. He also does not sleep, you remember. You've never had it in you to ask why. If he's as haunted as you are. If this place keeps him from escaping his nightmares. You could ask, or you could dig for information… You do neither.

You always do neither.

"Your tests are fine, you should get some rest though, and make sure you take your medication. Leon said you've skipped it for two days now." He extends a hand with pills shaken out into them. Suppressants, for the core in your chest. To stabilise it.

You've taken them since waking up. They taste bitter, and they stick in your throat.

You grab them out of his hand, and throw them back. You feel like spitting them back up into his face, but manage to swallow them down, relieved when he has water prepared. You down the bottle, easing the sensation of the chalky taste, and run your tongue over your teeth to clear the residue.

It's no surprise to you that Leon would rat you out. Like he thinks he is your keeper. Like he owns your soul, and your body. Not just the warden responsible for your pain. The object of your abject hatred.

The cool of the seat starts to burn, so you pull up and step away. Shoving one hand into pockets, claw loose at your side. "Anything else?" The man asks, his expression becoming warmer, a smile loose on his worn lips. The familiar feeling sparks in your chest, and you wish you could ask.

Maybe if you ask you'd understand.

If you ask, you wake up from a nightmare, and you're not sure if the outside is better.

So you shake your head, "No, see you." and turn on a heel, leaving as quickly as you can. You can't thank him, you can never thank him. He is the only one who does not treat you like something to cut open for experiments, and you cannot thank him.

Because it is a low bar to clear?

Because you should not have to thank for that?

Because you blame him too?

You do not go to find food, though there is a cafeteria. You don't need to stay here. With the cold walls. Stared at by wary mad scientists.

You have a job, you can always do some research. Something that requires the movement of your feet, and the use of your brain. Something to distract from the feelings that bubble and overflow. That leave a lingering bitterness in your mouth like chalky medication.

That make you look over your shoulder, and not focus on the target.

It is an agitation you cannot shake out, so you have to focus it.

Your feet take you back to Leon's lab, but his lab coat is over the chair, as his tools are left behind. So you dig into his pockets, and pull out his wallet. Relieved to find cash, and not just card. You could figure it out, but it's always a pain.

Instead you take all the cash he has to hand, and leave, throwing his wallet back on the table.

If he wants to demand a punishment, he's free to. If you get results, he's less likely to get what he wants.

You want to watch him chafe under the pressure.

—------

Linkon is familiar in a way you aren't sure how to word. You've been told you lived here, that you lived with Caleb in a house in a nice little neighbourhood, before it was taken from you. You've walked to the area before, and while you sometimes can feel heat against your skin, you cannot quite bring the image to mind.

Like you're staring at a static tv screen. Sometimes there's a shape you think you can make out, but it could just be the broken image, flicking so fast you've fooled yourself.

It's like desperately grabbing at something, only for it to slip further under sand. One thing you do know, however, is that your feet travel before your brain focuses. That you pass by things called kitty cafes, and hesitate for a moment. Looking through glass, and wondering what it is you're seeing. You almost entered once, before dread settled somewhere in the pit of you. Pushing you back.

A warning.

So you simply look through the windows, to watch the small creatures and the floating OTTOs that tend to them.

It is enough. Perhaps.

The acknowledgement of something that you enjoy. Or think you enjoy. Perhaps you played with Caleb.

Before he was taken away from you.

Would he be able to remind you of things you have forgotten? Records of things you should know, photos of times you'd spent together? Would he be able to spark the image if he stood before you?

Your memory just a casualty of EVER's saving your life… It is a low price to pay, you've been told. That memory can sometimes be reclaimed. That your life cannot.

You cannot help but feel like a haunted ghost though. Sparks and flashes with abstracts and feelings you can't explain or name. Things that lurk along the edges but cannot be grasped. You have nothing for yourself, but the jobs you are given, and the titles you cannot shake.

Perhaps if you keep following the path, you'll find an answer at the end of it. Even though you want to turn from it. Run the opposite direction. Would the answer even make you happier? Or would it make the feelings worse?

Could Caleb really have cared about someone Leon calls little bomb? Could a tool be more than itself? Or were you both tools?

Perhaps it was easy to exist, because neither had anything else to claim.

If that were the case, you think you could accept it. At least then you would not be alone, surrounded by things that want to twist and snap and break and bend you. Make you into a weapon sharper than a dagger.

You still await the moment they pierce your skull with a sword, so you bear the horn of the beast, they're so proud of naming you after.

It is the smell of sweets that draws you to a cafe, and you are relieved that no one bothers to look at you for your arm. Though you have passed at least three people with panda costumes, so you think perhaps, this is a low scale of concern for Linkon residents.

As you enter, money in your pocket, you rattle off as many cakes as you can read, and afford with stolen cash, and then ask for a black coffee.

You pause, and then correct yourself. Cream, two sugars.

You can see it placed next to your head on a bedside table, you can hear a snort of disgust against your neck. You shiver, the sensation of lips on the back of your neck making you scratch at it with sharpened claws.

The blood that catches at the edges, makes your panic rise, but no one is looking at you. Couples too caught up with each other, groups laughing, and people alone working. Linkon, you decide, is an interesting but strange place.

At the compound you are stared at. Watched warily. There is no step you can take where you are not eyed, as though you could begin howling and snarling at a moment. You wonder if they fear you will turn into a wanderer. Will the core in your chest make you as horrifying a beast as the Myst's that EVER manipulate? Augmented protocores giving them powers beyond understanding?

It is an interesting thought. You hope if that happens, someone will silence you quickly. Lest you lose even the semblance of you that you have.

As you find your way to empty chairs, stuffing a macaron into your mouth, hunger tearing at your edges, you feel the aggravation and sensitivity calm somewhat. The itch easing, and the feelings leaving you be.

'Food is important, sweets can fill your heart as well as your stomach.'

The voice isn't familiar, it is a whisper on the edges. It does not bite at you though. The edges softened down, no longer sharp and broken. So you stuff more into your mouth, unconcerned with the world around you. Sating the beast that purrs as you feed it sugar.

As you finally stop starving your body, though you still refuse to let it sleep. Perhaps the confectionery will do for now.

With one hand you continue to claim sugary treats, while the other flicks through information Leon had sent you.

Zayne Li, cardiologist. Highly respected, has rejected offers of work over sixteen times.

You can't imagine why he'd suddenly decide to take up EVER's offer, if he has steadfastly rejected every time they had tried. Perhaps they finally had enough money for him. Money, equipment, a curiosity. It was always something that summoned the science types into EVER's hands.

They never fought or rejected for long. Denied enough opportunities, they would come running. Desperate.

Ice EVOL, uncontrolled, appears to create backlash when used.

Ice shards, tearing through skin, ripping into flesh, and rattling air from the chest. You choke on a sip of your drink, spitting the coffee on the table as you rub at your forehead. You can feel the cold on the tips of your fingers, and you aren't sure why.

It is not one of the EVOLs that was fed to you.

Just more static, things that don't belong to you, that won't stop haunting your vision. The lack of sleep has to be the reason.

Still, to have an EVOL you cannot control… That hurts you when you do. You think of the ones that aren't yours, that have been devoured by your resonance, and you rub at the space over your chest.

The core in your chest will eat anything it can grasp.

The file gives you his main location, Akso Hospital. Kidnapping a doctor from a hospital, would likely result in more mess than you want to deal with. You'll just have to follow him to somewhere else when he leaves.

Surely he has a home.

Why it's not in the file is a question you will have to ask Leon later. You'd expect them to give you more than minimal lines.

It is not as though you will fail… failing means tests. You think of isolation rooms. Of fighting people haunted, with protocore syndrome. That shatter when you fight back. You think of the agony in your limbs when they poke and prod.

You think of shocks, and scalpels. You think of what EVER means when they make you their tool. When you are their test subject.

You think of how, even if you run, they will always be able to find you.

You think of how pointless it is to fight back, when they break you down.

You think of their buildings in Linkon, office workers who mill about with their symbols on their chest.

You think of the news reports you hear, with their technology selling to everyone you pass.

It is an encompassing web, and you are barely a fly.

EVER have reminded you, that being a tool is better than breaking.

You're unsure if that's true, but you know that death never seems to save you. You have plunged your beloved dagger into your chest, trying to cleave the core out, but woken up on a table. Unsuccessful, reminded of your place.

You are hazy, if someone stops you, if you're always being watched that they can grasp you before. You wake up though, staring around you, and it continues. You continue. Dagger in hand, EVER's mark on your collar, and given orders.

It is as you lean back, finished with your bounty, sipping the last of your coffee, that the door swings open.

"I don't think now is the time to eat sweets."

"And I know you're not feeling great, when you can say that doc."

Static.

Like in that broken down apartment building. Staring at a man who looks like a ghost to you. Slowing your dagger long enough to look.

Crackling along the edges, filtering through your vision. Overlaying so many images against the other. It is noise and it is broken images.

It is a force of a wall you cannot break through.

You look, as two men enter. Tired, drawn eyes. One you know by the file in your hand.

The other, you know by the signs and posters.

Zayne Li and Rafayel Qí.

It is an easy thing to sit and watch as the one rubs at his eyes, and the other nudges him, hand easing strain from back.

They do not know you. No matter if they pick out the symbol on your collar, there are countless EVER employees, and your face is only known to the ones you're ordered to kill.

And now capture.

Still, your eyes want to move away. Looking at them hurts. The static is loud, and the feelings are back. An uncomfortable ripping at the fabric of what's inside you.

So you stand to leave, hoping you can pull away and come back another day. It is no use tracking a man when he has company, for all you know the artist is a bodyguard in his spare time.

Complications are not worth testing with.

It is the movement of your chair, and the way you stand, grasping at your chair to push it back in, that draws their gaze to you. It sends a chill down your spine, as they look.

As forest green eyes and burning pink and blue stare at you. Wavering.

You are hit with the static, louder now, pushing down on your head, trying to drown you. You want to cover your ears, but you can't. You can't stand out. You can't be odd. Not out here. Not more than you already are.

No one has looked, or cared. So you put one foot in front of the other, and it shatters the silence.

"Cutie?"

"Darling?"

It tears at the fabric, and it rips at the gauze. The open wound in your chest. You feel the ice though skin, the water in lungs. There is a sensation of falling, and an aching where you land.

They approach, and you wave off. Claw in the ground trying to right yourself, pull yourself together. Remember what you're supposed to do. Get out, leave. It doesn't matter if they remember your face… It won't matter when you knock out the doctor and take him back.

Even if the artist remembers you, EVER can cover it up.

They've never failed to do so before.

You just have to get out. To find your feet.

Why is there so much static?

Someone kneels by you, and a cold hand touches the claw digging into the ground. It cuts through the carapace, rips at the seams. You pull away, and it gives you enough shock to cut through, to give you a door. You back up, and shake your head, "I'm fine, sorry."

You don't look at teary eyes, or stop long enough to be grasped at, you don't want to know why they looked at you, or saw something.

You don't want the static.

You just have to get back, and do your job… Then shake out the voices who call out names that settle softer than Unicorn.

[olsenmyolsen]

Ups and Downs Pt. II

master list

dark master list

Slight MCU AU (Female Reader X Natasha Romanoff)

Be sure to read part one!

Summary: Your neighbor across the hall isn't anything like you thought she'd be.

Word Count: 4.7K

TW: Men, Guns, Violence, Bad Flirting, Fighting, Shooting, Blood, Feelings, Needles

Of course, the day you met the prettiest girl possibly in the whole entire world. You were also in a shootout with a spy.

Okay, yes, the spy and the girl are one in the same, but you get my point.

"How long ago was the guy here?"

"I-uh.." Since Nat's hands and sweet voice were all over and around your body, you truly lost any concept of time.

Nat ignored your non-answer as she looks out the window where her sniper is positioned before turning to you with a worried look.

"Y/N GET DOWN!"

You barely had time to move your body before the windows next to Nat exploded, sending you, her, and pieces of glass flying everywhere. Her body lands on its back in front of yours. New forming cuts already on her face. "Nat?!" You asked, sounding muffled due to the ringing in your ears.

Shit, a lot of you will hurt tomorrow if you get through this.

"Ow.." Nat blinks, her eyes opening as she wipes the blood from her forehead. Before she looks you over, making sure you're not harmed. "I gotta say that looks a lot cooler in the movies." You state.

"Yeah, I know." As if Natasha watches anything but classic James Bond. "Okay, Y/N, listen to me." She gets up on her knees in front of you but keeps you down low to the floor. Her hand on your back provides you with reassurance. Plus, it feels nice.

Should I tell her that my throat needs to be reassured?

"They blew out the windows because they saw me. If I know them.. and I do. They're about to send in smoke bombs. Try and flush us out. Whatever you do, regulate your breathing. Okay. In fact..." Nat keeps the two of you low but begins to move you both back to the kitchen. "Here." She grabs her bag off the counter and throws it down. Nat reaches into a side pocket and pulls out a hard mask.

"Come here." Nat motions you to come closer, and like a good girl, you do. "You're going to wear this." Nat quickly wraps the mask around your face. "As you can tell, your vision will be slightly askew, but your breathing will be fine as long as you..." Nat trails as she raises her eyebrow.

Fuck she's so fucking calm right now, and it looks so fucking hot on her- oh, she's staring at me. Oh, uhhh-

"Keep my breathing regulated?" You answer, which earns a proud smile from Nat. "Yep. Good job." I am a good girl. You think with a smile.

"Wait!" You grab onto Nat's arm. She stops rummaging through the bag to look at you. "What about you? Do you have a mask?" Nat shakes her head at you. "I only have one. But don't worry." She smiles. "I've dealt with far worse."

Nat pulls out a pistol you hadn't seen before. She looks up and onto the dining room table. You follow her eyesight. The small silver discs. "I can grab them."

"No, wait!"

You go to reach forward but get yanked back by Nat. A sniper shot rings out, the bullet going through the wood right where your hand would've been. "You okay?" She asks with a soft gaze, looking into your mask. You nod, even though you're growing more scared by the minute. "Shit, they have more than I thought." Nat rubs her hand up and down your back while she thinks. You believe this action to be absent-minded. But Natasha knows you are scared. The last thing she needs is for you to be scared and get hurt or, worse, killed.

So she's thinking of you first.

"Why haven't they fired the gas yet?" You ask. Nat looks at you before looking at the window. "They're playing a game. Shit.." Nat bites her lip and thinks.

You see her biting her lip, and you start thinking, too.

But you both aren't thinking remotely the same things.

"They're trying to draw you out. They know you're here with me." Nat looks at you. "Give me your hand." You hold it out for her as she takes your wrist and gently places the pistol she had behind her back in your hand.

"This is a Beretta 92. It's a very accurate close-range weapon. Okay? Keep it low. Away from yourself and me."

"What, Nat, I can't-"

"It holds 15 rounds. When the magazine empties, this thing will slide lock back like this." She shows you. Keeping her eyes on you instead of the gun. You look at her as she repeats the action.

"Natalie, I don't think I can do this."

"Natasha." She replies.

"What?" You tilt your head, confused. "Natalie is a cover. Natasha is my real name."

Unbeknownst to you is that Natasha still wasn't even her legal name.

You don't miss a beat before replying with: "You look prettier as a Natasha anyways."

"Really flirting? Now?" You shrug. "I've been flirting all along. It's about time you caught on." Even though you most certainly HAVE NOT been flirting this whole time. "So, is that what you call it?"

Natasha wins this battle.

"Look at the gun, Y/N." She coos you. You move your eyes to the gun as Nat holds your hand with hers. Showing you the first few steps again.

"Okay, now to reload-"

Nat gets interrupted as three canisters shoot through the broken windows. The second they land, they start leaking smoke. "Don't be scared." You go to argue that you're not, but with a smile, Nat raises her eyebrows, earning a scoff from you. Sassy even in a life-or-death situation.

"Okay, to reload. Push this down." She begins to talk faster as you both can sense that instruction time will be over soon. So she pushes your hand. "The empty mag will fall out, and then you shove the other one in. Like replacing batteries in a flashlight. Okay?" She asks as the smoke creeps into the kitchen. You nod, feeling the weight of the gun in your hand when Nat removes hers.

"Nat, I don't think I can do this. Shooting people." You clarify. Nat turns and looks into your eyes as the sound of men marching up your apartment building becomes louder and louder. "Okay, Y/N, listen to me." She grabs the sides of your mask so you can look into her emerald eyes.

Okay, how is she hotter now that she's covered in bruises and blood? Will I look hotter if I'm covered in bruises and blood?

Should I ask?

"Y/N, listen to me! These men are coming in here to kill you and me. I will do everything in my power to protect you, but in the event that I'm not able to, I'm trusting you to be able to defend yourself. Okay? Don't use it unless you have to." You nod with a dumb grin on your face that, thankfully, Natasha could not see, or else she would think you really were hopeless. "Most importantly, don't move unless I tell you to. Please don't do anything besides shoot this gun unless I tell you to. I say duck, what do you do?"

"Duck... Goose." You joke, but before Natasha could scold you, the front door to the apartment flies off its hinges. However, thankfully, the smoke has now possessed the room, covering for you and Natasha...

...Natasha?

You look to your right to see no one next to you.

Great, even in a shootout, you can't keep a girl.

You sigh and stay still as heavy footsteps are heard entering the apartment. You do your best to count, and you assume five men are now here to kill you. You stay still on the floor in the corner of the kitchen when you hear one of the men speak up. "Come on out with your friend, little widow! We promise not to hurt her."

You rolled your eyes through the mask, and that's when you heard two shots being fired off before a loud thud hit the floor across the apartment.

"How did she do that?!" You hear a heavily accented man yell before a multitude of bullets are fired from an automatic weapon.

However, instead of Natasha getting hit, she jumps up off the coffee table in the middle of the living room and knees one of the men in the nose. Making him stagger back in pain, leaving him little time to think as she attaches a widow bite disc to the man, shocking him to the floor but not before grabbing his pistol and aiming it at the other man in the room, sending one shot to his thigh and the other to his left shoulder before she empties the magazine and throws the pistol at the guy's face knocking him out.

Two more men to go.

Lucky for Natasha, the shooting and her elegant, quick movements confused the last two dummies. Plus, with their own smoke, it makes it impossible to see someone as highly trained as The Black Widow.

You nearly jump when Natasha slides on the kitchen floor before you. You go to speak, but Natasha signals with her hands to zip it.

You nod and try to think about how good she looks, kicking these guy's ass.

Natasha puts a hand in front of your face, making you focus up. You okay? She asks with her hands. You nod, making the redhead spy smile.

A genuine smile, too.

And even though she said it earlier, that's when you truly realize that Natasha is protecting you. Whether it's her job or not, you like to believe it's because she cares for you. Even if just a little bit.

Your beliefs would be correct.

However, before you could ask Natasha if she was doing okay or what her favorite color is, you watch her take off running. The smoke in the room shoots out and away from Natasha. You watch in amazement as Natasha jumps and wraps her legs around a man's head before spinning the top half of her body around, sending the man head first into the floor. His nose breaking on impact. Her landing on her feet.

Is it weird that you want that done to you?

"Your friends are taken care of. So I suggest you come out and let me kick your ass too." Natasha speaks aloud with her back facing you to the last man standing as the smoke in the room clears.

You stand up from the ground and take a step towards Nat. The gun still tightly gripped in your hand. Your eyes remain on Natasha as she starts to walk back towards you; however, before she turns around, your body gets hit with a force from the side. Launching your head into the cabinets to your left.

"Ow fucker!" You yell!

The crashing sound and your curse alerting Natasha. The larger man places his hand on your mask and pushes your head into the cabinet again, this time making it bleed as his other hand reaches for your gun. "Give up!" He yells before removing his hand from your mask to punch you in the side of your body. You groan and stumble.

He reels back to hit you again, but instead, Natasha rips the gun from your hand with efficiency and pistol whips the man in the face, sending him flying back. The man yells in pain as he readies himself to fight, but Natasha is fast. She runs and kicks the guy in his ankle, making him fall to his knee. She smirks as he yells out in pain before she double kicks him in the throat, making him fall as he begins to choke.

Before anger entirely overtakes Natasha, she hears you crash to the floor behind her. When Natasha turns around, she sees blood on the sides of the counter.

"Y/N!" Natasha runs to your side and drops the gun next to the two of you. Instantly, she's ripping the gas mask off of you and turning your head. "Let me see." She gingerly pulls your chin, making you look away so she can examine the extent of your head injury. "It doesn't look deep. But we need to stop the bleeding."

Natasha quickly looks around the damaged kitchen before finding a forgotten rag. She places it on your head and hates how you wince in pain.

"Keep your hand here." Natasha takes your left hand and places it over the rag over the cut. "Be honest.." You start as Natasha looks over the rest of you.

"Do I look cool or like dogshit?"

Natasha's lips crack into a smile at your joke. "You look so cool," Natasha says, whether it was true or not. "You took some hits, too. Impressive." Natasha says with a smile. "Yeah, well, someone didn't yell Goose." You playfully hit Natasha's leg with your foot.

"Next time." She says.

"Oh! Next time?" You say and continue. "Planning on our next date being another shootout?" You raise an eyebrow but wince when you move your head a bit too much at the moment, saving Natasha from seeing her blush.

"Who said anything about a date?" Natasha quips. You knew it was coming, but you still had a smile. "You're right. I guess shootouts aren't a good date idea. I'll pick something better for, let's say... Friday?" You laughed at your own joke per usual, but ended up coughing in pain. Not per usual.

Natasha's hands immediately went to the hem of your shirt before you reacted. "Hey. What did I say? We haven't had our date yet." Natasha thought it was cute but still rolled her eyes. "I need to check to ensure you're not bleeding internally."

"Can you really tell?" You questioned. "No. But I know a thing or two more than you, so let me look." She had you there. So, with your permission, Natasha slowly lifted your shirt but made a face when she saw your red skin already bruising and enlarging. "It's not awful, but it's going to hurt a lot before it gets better."

Natasha places her hand over the area and begins to rub. "Does it hurt here?" She lays a small out of pressure, forcing you to nod in pain. "Not at all." You whine and clench your jaw. "Okay... I'm going to call this in. Get us evac'd."

Your eyes widened not because of Natasha's words but because of the guy behind Natasha. Yes, the one she kicked in the throat started to get up. "Natasha..." You said, making her look into your eyes. "What's wrong?"

She noticed how you looked.

Natasha turned behind her to see the man perched up on his good knee. Gun in hand. She immediately puts her body directly in front of yours.

"Step aside, widow. Let me kill this one without trouble."

"Not going to let that happen." Natasha reached behind her and expertly grabbed the gun she gave you earlier from the floor and pulled it in front of her, not wasting another breath as she fired the weapon twice—one into the man's chest and the other directly into the man's head.

From her crouched position, she got up with precision and made it to the man on the floor. She kicked the smoking gun out of his hand and made sure he was... Wait- smoking gun?

Natasha looked from the gun to you.

Fear ran through her body as she saw your figure slumped over on the floor in a bigger pool of your own blood.

Natasha would've ran to your body if this would've been her first time in a position like this, but it wasn't. She had saved countless people before, and she was not about to lose you!

So Natasha ran to her bag and rifled through a side pocket until she found her phone and a needle of Tetrodotoxin B. A drug developed by Bruce Banner with the idea of slowing his heart rate to one beat per minute. Natasha didn't know if it worked on Bruce or not, but she knew SHEILD had it for some reason.

Right now, that reason was going to be you.

As Natasha flicked the end of the needle and pulled your arm out in front of you, she called Clint on speaker phone. "Sorry if this hurts," Natasha said to your now unconscious body. Her eyes watering.

"Hello?"

"Go secure!" Natasha yelled as she sat your body up and ripped off the right half of your shirt to examine your bullet wound.

"Secure," Clint replied. "Shit!" Natasha replied, confusing the bow and arrow man. "Natasha?"

Nat looked at your head wound and the rest of your body. The Banner drug was going to help keep you alive, but you were still losing blood.

Natasha hated everything about this moment.

Ups and downs. The day Natasha met someone who didn't know who she was. The day she could actually see herself being around someone was also the day they were bleeding out in front of her.

"I need evac! Safehouse A is blown. Got caught up in a shoot out, and Y/N is hit."

She got up and went to look for whatever medical supplies she had in addition to any extra clothes to get you changed and wrapped your wound.

"Y/N?" Clint questioned. "Like the Golden retriever? The neighbor from across the hall?"

"Yep! She's not going to make it unless you send someone right now, Clint."Natasha didn't want to believe her words. Barton, for one thing, couldn't.

"Are you serious?"

"Serious as a God falling from the sky."

"Go to safe house B. Evac is on the way."

With that, the line clicked, and the call ended. Natasha did her best to dress your injuries before the only thing she was doing was watching how slow your breathing had become...

_

You woke up to bright lights above you and a horrible feeling in your nose... and head.... and shoulder... and side. Wow!

Wow.

Okay, so you actually had this horrible feeling called pain all over you.

You tried lifting your head to look around, but it felt like a ton of bricks was pushing on your skull. But you pushed through and found a short brown-haired man sitting in a chair by the only door in or out. "Who the fuck was he?" You thought and tried to speak, but your throat was too scratchy to say anything, making you cough.

The man in the chair looked up at the noise and noticed you.

He sent a quick message on his phone before closing it. He got up from his lazy position, running to your bedside table, and filled up a tiny paper cup full of water. "Here." He said as he held it in front of your lips.

You don't know if he didn't trust you or if your hands/arms were too weak. You didn't want to find out, so you took a sip from the cup and let the cold water run down your burning throat. "Thank you."

"Welcome." Silence. "Natasha should be down here soon. I let her know you woke up." You tilted your head and looked over the man, slightly nodding. "So you're Y/N?" He already knew, but Clint was happy he could talk to someone new for a change. Even if he did talk like an uncle, you don't see but once every couple of years.

"Where am I?" You ignored the man walking back to the chair near the door and asked.

"You're safe if that's your concern." He spoke, but you just sighed. "Anytime a woman is alone in a room with a man and he says something like that. It doesn't make her feel safe."

Clint bit his lip as he listened to your words before nodding along. "Can't argue with that." Clint got up again from the chair and made his way to you. Making you jump and look him over. "I'm Clint. I'm the one Natasha spoke to on the phone." You remembered the phone call before the windows blew out, but not much after getting your head thrown into a kitchen cabinet.

"Hi, Clint. Are you going to tell me where I am?" You asked in a tone more annoyed off than friendly. Clint smiled. "I see why Natasha likes you."

Now that got you interested!

But before you or Uncle Clint could say anything else, the door opened, and in ran Natasha. Her cuts are all covered by bandages, and her face clean from a shower. "How long has she been up?" Natasha passed her friend, stopping to stand next to you.

"I let you know the second she did." Clint smiled at you and Natasha. "I'll leave you to it." Natasha thanked Clint, and the two of you watched him leave the room.

"You probably feel like shit huh?" Natasha questioned, but as she reached to move a hair from your face, you backed away. Natasha didn't understand why. "Y/N?" She asked.

"Who are you?" You asked, making Natasha's jaw drop before she quickly recovered. Helen didn't mention any memory loss. Natasha looked away, a little hurt that this might be the case, but when she looked back, she saw you smiling. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Holding in a laugh.

Natasha figured it out.

"Fuck you!"

"I got you!" You laughed and cheered before wincing in pain and coughing. Making Natasha smile at the instant karma while getting you a cup of water. "Serves you right."

She held the cup up to your pink lips and watched a little spill out the corners of your mouth. She watched a droplet slide down your throat and disappear into your gown.

Your voice bringing Natasha back. "I just lived through many movie cliches. I HAD to do this one." You said, making Natasha smile and nod to you before she sat at the edge in the middle of the bed.

Natasha wanted to reach for your hand as silence enveloped the two of you. She wanted to tell you how close you were to dying or how scared she was. But Natasha didn't reach for your hand.

Instead, you reached for hers. 

"You know if a hot spy is going to come into my hospital room in an unknown location, the least she could do is hold my hand."

That made Natasha Romanoff blush.

"Hot spy, huh?" Natasha teased, but you just nodded, feeling confident. "Look in a mirror, Natasha." Natasha laughed. "Sometimes you really just don't stop flirting." That made you smile. Natasha didn't say it was lousy flirting. "Just wait till we start dating."

"Oh?" Natasha raised her eyebrow but hit back a smile. "Is that what we're going to do?"

"Yeah, remember, shootouts don't count. So Friday, you and I are going out." Natasha shook her head but didn't disagree. "You don't even know what day it is." That was true. "Friday...?" You looked at Natasha with hope, but she shook her head again. "Nope. Besides. I like it went my dates aren't still in a hospital bed." You sighed but internally screamed at Natasha, flirting back. Natasha watched you before turning away. Her thumb rubbed over yours.

"Hey.." Natasha started making you look at her. "I- I'm sorry for getting you involved in my mess. You-" Natasha stopped and pulled her hand away to rub her face. "You almost died because of me." Natasha felt guilty. She should've kicked you out the second you weren't a threat. Instead, she liked having your company. In the minutes you spent in Natasha's presence, she wanted to keep you around.

"Natasha." You reached out for her hand again and was surprised when she gave it to you. But you still pulled her hand, making her look to you. Her green eyes shining. You nodded for Natasha to scoot closer.

She did.

"Don't blame yourself." Natasha went to open her mouth, but you interrupted her. "There's no doubt I would be dead if you hadn't been there. Besides... I'm the curious one. I knocked on your door. I wanted to get to know you. I stuck around because I wanted to. My body hurts like hell. But I'm alive because of you."

Natasha didn't look entirely convinced, but that would come in time. It was sad to see this badass person beat herself up over something that wasn't your fault or hers. It just happened because of horrible people. "Can you at least do me something?" Natasha tilted her head. "What?"

"Can you at least tell yourself that you saved me?" That sounded like a big ask at the moment but not as big as the next thing. "And! Tell me that you actually enjoy my flirting because it's only going to get worse." That made Natasha throw her head back and laugh, making you smile.

You were so focused on Natasha that you didn't see the room door open.

"Oh wow, never thought I'd see the day. Natasha Romanoff laughing! Time!?!" The man with a striking anchor beard and a Tom Ford suit called out as he walked closer to the bed you laid in.

"Good to see you awake. It's nice to put a name to the face of my almost-dead Budapest employee."

Tony Stark looked you over as sassy as the man is known for before looking at Natasha, who was internally scolding him for mispronouncing Budapesht.

"Quite a catch, that one. So what's the diagnosis?! How long we got?" He picked up your chart and began flipping through paperwork he should not be looking at before Natasha took it. "Tony..." She sounded exhausted already. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you." He said, looking upset that your chart got taken away from him. "I came to see who was moving in."

If Tony Stark. Your boss. Who also happens to have a hobby of flying around in a gold and red suit wasn't shocking enough to you than that last sentence that he said was.

"Moving in?!?" You asked, shocked. Ton- Mr. Stark- no Iron Man..?! What were you supposed to call him?!

Mr. Tony Man looked from you to Natasha before saying: "Looks like you didn't tell the Misses." This made Natasha get up and grab the not-so-tin man by his collar, whispering methods of torture she would use if he didn't leave the two of you alone.

"I expect to see you at work once you make a full recovery!" Tony yelled and pointed at you before the redhead slammed the door in his face.

Natasha composed herself before turning to you, still wearing a shocked face. "Moving in?!?" You asked again. Natasha nodded as she walked to you. "Yes. We-" She sighed. "I thought it would be the safest option for you. Plus, you can recover here. You're back in the States." Natasha's words fell on the quiet side before she sat on the bed.

Closer to you this time. "I can think of a few other reasons.." You look at Natasha and smiled.

"You don't have to. If you want to leave or go back to Budapesht, I understand." Natasha wants you to know that there is no pressure to stay. But you already know this. If you wanted to get up right now and leave, Natasha would probably let you.

"Staying might be nice."

"Yeah?" Natasha looks hopeful. "Yeah." Natasha smiles and reaches her hand to your face. Moving a stray hair back behind your ear. "If you do stay, that means I can tell you the best part."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" You curiously ask as Natasha looks at you like she's got some big secret.

"I'd be your neighbor across the hall."

You were free to leave the hospital bed 4 days later.

The next day you moved in right across from Natasha Romanoff.

A week later you took her on a date.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 18: [DDVD] lucifer / lost child

ao3 link

note: reminder: zhao calls ik "a-ke", and i also realised while writing this - in jtta, she's called ik because it's like an anglicised pronunciation of her birth name, but in ddvd they never move to england... i've thus decided that in this au, ik got her nickname from mammon right at the start of the year. that or they all speak chinese and ik is how i, as author, have transliterated her birth name. anyway, this takes place early on in the exchange year

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

“Zhao’s upset,” is the first and only thing Satan has said to Lucifer today.

He’ll let his little brother off the hook for being rude, even if only just this once - what he wants to know is what Satan expects him to do about it. Lucifer is a student council officer, not a school therapist, and it is not his responsibility to deal with sad pupils. Even if they live under his roof.

Though it turns out that ‘sad’ is not the correct word for whatever emotional wringer Zhaoxi is currently putting himself through. Lucifer runs into him at the end of the same corridor he’s just passed Satan in, and he looks as if he hasn’t slept in weeks. Somehow there are shadows under his eyes that weren't there this morning.

He isn’t an expert, by any means - he's only consulted a few textbooks, and since the start of the exchange program most of his human research has been about the tiny ones - but that’s definitely not normal. Surely one school day can’t be that taxing.

“Ahem,” He says loudly as Zhaoxi powers past him with barely a glance in his direction. “Is something wrong?”

Zhaoxi pauses, mutters something very quickly that he doesn’t understand, then turns to run off again. Lucifer catches him by the shoulder before he can disappear around the corner.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, more insistently this time. “There are club meetings going on. You’re going to cause a disturbance.”

He mumbles a half-hearted apology and takes off his glasses, as if he doesn’t want to look at him in too much detail. “I can’t find A-Ke.”

“You lost her?” Who misplaces an entire child?

“She learnt how to open the door,” Zhaoxi says a little miserably. “And A-Ke is very quiet. I didn’t realise she left the room.”

Privately, Lucifer can’t fathom how she even reached the handle. He sighs. “...very well. I’ll help you search. We can’t have children running wild around the school.”

Zhaoxi blinks, then abruptly shoves his glasses back on. Behind them, his eyes are possibly the brightest thing Lucifer has ever seen. “You will?!”

No one else has even offered? He thinks, and makes a note to perhaps suggest to Diavolo that they remind the student body of the concept of compassion. (He has a feeling it wouldn’t be very welcomingly received, though.)

“I know most of the popular hiding spots,” He says. “In the meantime, you should consult someone from the Newspaper Club. They tend to know what’s happening around the school before even the demon it’s happening to.”

“You aren’t busy?” Zhaoxi asks anxiously.

“I'm only doing routine checks.” He glances at his half-complete inventory sheet, then sends the clipboard away with quick spell. “It can wait. The school won’t explode if I miss one day.”

He gives him directions to the Newspaper Club’s usual classroom, and Zhaoxi thanks him with what was probably supposed to be a earnest handshake, but delivered with such little force that it felt more like he was just having his hand held. Lucifer pauses to think about that for a moment, then very abruptly turns on his heel and makes for the library.

Zhaoxi’s daughter is not hiding in any of the gaps between the bookshelves, nor is she under any of the tables. Lucifer thinks about checking the canteen next, then finally realises just how gargantuan this task really is.

Yes, he knows the common hiding spots - of full-grown demons. Human children have far more options.

He heaves a sigh and drags a hand down his face. This is exactly the sort of situation he’d predicted, back at the start of the exchange year. The whole scene is practically seared into his memory…

He’d stood up just as the summoning spell ran its course, leaving the new arrival shivering in the middle of the circle. Diavolo had stepped forward with widespread arms. “Welcome to the Devildom! You— oh, that’s a baby.”

Satan had promptly dropped behind the table with a silent cackle. After a moment, Zhaoxi, trembling as if standing out in a blizzard, said in a tiny voice, “She’s three soon.”

Lucifer had gone through the full rehearsed explanation, trying very hard to ignore the tiny thing with giant eyes watching him intently throughout. And he’d succeeded in hiding just how perturbed he was - up until everyone else had left the council room.

“We need to talk about that exchange student,” He’d told Diavolo sternly.

“Zhaoxi? I thought he was quite pleasant. I’m sure he’ll settle in just fine.”

“Were you paying any attention? He looked as if you had a sword to his throat. He has a child. How do you expect him to cope?”

“We’ll figure something out,” Diavolo had said without dropping his smile in the slightest. “Human children are fascinating, aren’t they?”

“It’s miniscule.”

“Don’t be rude, Lucifer. Besides, we’ve welcomed him already - it hardly seems right to send him away now.”

“The child is barely bigger than your head.” It was hard to stop thinking about. He didn’t think something the same shape as a demon could get that small.

“Come now, that’s exaggerating. Besides, she’ll grow! Eventually… I think.”

It would be convenient if she could grow up NOW, Lucifer thinks now, aggravated, poking his head into a fifteenth classroom and beginning to wish he’d just taken a different corridor an hour ago. But a job taken is a job to be done, and he is nothing if not thorough. Onto the next.

…anyway, it’d reflect poorly on him - and the council as a whole - if the situation wasn’t resolved. He continues, apparently with enough grim focus on his face that the usual suspects don’t even attempt to bother him.

He’s on the verge of actually calling Solomon for help - banking on some kind of human-human sixth sense that only sorcerers can tap into, which he’s about half-sure could exist. He’s thinking so hard about how much he doesn’t want to resort to that he almost misses his breakthrough.

Thunk, thunk, thunk. The sound is incessant, but quiet enough that anyone making any noise in the corridor wouldn’t be able to hear it. He hovers on the spot for a moment, listening intently, then follows the sound around the corner, to one of the Potions supply rooms.

Thunk, thunk— thunk! It speeds up as he approaches the door - hearing his footsteps, perhaps. ThunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthUNKTHUNKTHUNK!

He sees what’s happened here. All of the supply rooms lock as soon as they’re closed, for security reasons - only the faculty and certain senior students know the charm to open them. If someone were to toddle in after some irresponsible demon had left the door ajar, only for their movement to make it close, they’d be trapped inside.

With a deep sigh, he presses his hand to the metal plate where a doorknob would usually be, and mutters an incantation. The door swings open.

There’s a brief silence. Then IK zooms out of the door, and very determinedly latches onto his leg.

“Wh—” He stiffens, then does his best impression of a tree. “...hey. I’m not your father.”

IK doesn’t respond. If anything, her grip tightens.

“Oi.” He lifts his leg. No dice. IK clutches on, crushing the fabric of his trousers (he just ironed them yesterday) in her tiny fists. He quickly returns his foot to the ground, a little worried about the integrity of his belt.

He knows better than to do so, but asks anyway, “Have you been in there this whole time?”

IK, of course, does not reply. IK does not speak to anyone apart from her father. (Either that, or Zhaoxi is capable of producing that tiny voice, and only does so when he's alone.)

Lucifer attempts to take a step. IK doesn’t let go, but she closes her eyes tight and allows herself to be dragged along. Her grip is surprisingly fierce - if only his brothers approached their duties with the same dedication.

He makes it about halfway down the corridor when he finally decides that, even for him, this is a bit too callous. The little human’s face is beginning to darken with the strain of holding on so tight.

“...alright.” He comes to a halt. “Don’t expect this to become a regular thing. Come here.”

He bends down and extends his hands. After a moment, IK opens her eyes and blinks at him owlishly.

“You know how to do this, don’t you?” He asks, and makes an effort to offer a friendly smile.

Somehow, it works. After another long moment, IK unwinds her arms, then reaches up for him.

…it feels more like he’s picking up a particularly robust toy than a living thing. Like when he has to clean up Levi’s room (because no one wants to do the chores around here, and it’s a bad sign when his floor isn’t visible under all the debris), and he has to move one of those branded plushies that he spends far too much Grimm on.

“This is why you shouldn’t go wandering around on your own,” He says sternly as he continues on his way down the hall. “You’re lucky I heard you, or you might have been stuck in there all night. Is that what you want?”

IK hums - which is the most sound she ever makes in his presence - and taps idly at his school badge. He lets her, hoping silently that he’ll run back into Zhaoxi soon. If only he hadn’t left his phone in the council room.

“You are two.” He decides to continue as he walks. “That is too young to be going off on your own business. And the R.A.D. is dangerous - some demon might see you as a very convenient snack. Next time, tell someone, and they can accompany you, and don’t worry your father like that again...”

It’s unusual to have such someone listen to one of his lectures without interrupting. He’s almost enjoying himself. He wonders how many words IK knows.

“You’re supposed to be engaging in play behaviours at this age,” He says aloud, thinking of the most recent book he consulted. “Asking questions. Learning to count. What do you even do with your free time? I can’t imagine your hands are large enough to play with anything down here.”

IK is two and does not know how to respond, if she’s even listening. She leans back a little, peers curiously up into his face - then reaches up and attempts to stick her hand in his mouth.

“Pf—” He jerks backwards, then pushes it away with a firm, “No, we don’t do that. That’s rude.”

IK tilts her head at him, then makes a grab for his nose instead. When Lucifer ducks away again, she quickly shoots for his exposed left ear. He expects himself to get angry, but he just ends up begrudgingly engaging in the game.

This is new. IK is an oddly serious two-year-old, and so far Lucifer has only seen her willingly play with Simeon.

Which is am improvement, perhaps - Simeon is a good-natured angel, and he’s always had a way with the younger fledglings. Lucifer, on the other hand, has a scary resting face and an even scarier frown, and has made more than one grown demon cry without even really trying to. He's almost proud of the step-up in bravery.

Hmm. This human has very different developmental milestones to the ones he’s read about.

It doesn’t weigh on his mind for long - soon after that, Lucifer finds Zhaoxi standing helplessly outside an empty classroom (apparently he hadn’t even found the Newspaper Club), and hands IK off to her father, reminding him to be more vigilant next time. Then he walks them home, retreats to his office, and soon the ordeal leaves his mind entirely.

And that could have been the end of that, but it is not. The next morning, Lucifer walks into the dining room, and is promptly met by unsteady footsteps, then the already-familiar weight of something crashing into and clinging to his leg.

“Hello,” He says, and is too tired to put up any fight. He leans down and allows IK to practically clamber up into his arms. At the table, Zhaoxi freezes mid-apology.

The room falls dead silent. Levi and Mammon look at him, then each other, then him again.

Satan regards him with what can only be described as revulsion. A piece of food slides off Beel’s suspended fork.

“...hi,” IK mumbles into his collar. Somehow it makes the looks on his brothers’ faces unimportant in comparison.

[muffinsin]

👀anon here, I've re-read pretty much all of your masterlists at least a few times each at this point 😅 am always impressed with how prolific you are and how good your writing is! Thinking about your dimi hands hc...could I request how the girls would be with a s/o with an oral fixation? They notice initially things like their s/o near constantly having sweets/candy or a pen or a toothpick etc in their mouth but eventually those are replaced with the girls' fingers and maybe other things 👀👀

I’m glad you’re enjoying my works! :) makes me incredibly happy to hear y’all liking it this much🙇‍♀️🫶

speaking of: little info to everyone- Masterlist 3 is now due and out!!

This is a very interesting concept! Boy, have I got some ideas for it!👀 (the referenced hand HC post can be found here)

Let’s get into it!🙌😚

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Masterlist 3

Bela

Bela picks up on your oral fixation first. She’s very perceptive as it comes to the people she cares about, after all

Now, she doesn’t normally mind it

She does remind you of bacteria sometimes, though, and not to nibble on things that could be dirty, even if not so to the naked eye

You’re her partner, her little human. She cares for you. She also tends to view humans as weaker than they are, and doesn’t want bacteria to be the reason you get sick

It starts with nibbling on your thumb or sleeve, your nails even

She has a nervous habit of biting her lip or the tip of her fingernail sometimes, so she barely even notices this at first

Then, she finds that you nibble on the end of pencils as you write and pause between words or sentences

Rarely she even finds wooden pencils with bite marks at the back. She is fast to dispose of those, however, whether they are from you, a maiden or one of her sisters

She doesn’t want them around

In some situations she even needed to remind you not to nibble on the paint of your paintbrush when painting- You didn’t even seem to notice

In other instances, she finds you absently reading with your necklace lifted to your mouth

She wonders, does this fixation of yours also apply in bed?

She knows you enjoy giving her oral. You never turn it down, and are always eager to have her pant from the pleasure she receives

It doesn’t help that she is painfully sensitive most of the time and grows incredibly wet for you

She is somewhat of a meal, really, between her legs

Still, Bela is curious about your oral fixation and thinks of taking it to the next level

The next time you’re intimate, and have your fingers inside of her, she strikes

Bela swiftly pushes her slender fingers in your mouth, three at the same time

For a moment, she’s unsure- did she interpret it all wrong?

No, for she then notices you lick and suck them all too eagerly

It’s a flustering and adorable sight to her

Often, she will randomly make you suck her fingers. They’re strong and thin, and you seem to take a lot of pleasure from having them in your mouth, your tongue swirling around them eagerly

But, it isn’t quite what she has in mind yet

After all, if you must suck on things, there are plenty other options…

The moment Bela grew aware of your oral fixation, she has had distinct fantasies of you sucking her breasts

Her nipples are so sensitive, she can’t help it. She loves whenever you brush your tongue against them during sex, and it has her fantasize of you sucking them even more

Still, she is too shy to randomly bring it up

Again, during sex, when you’re pressed up against her and fondle her breasts, she is too lost in the pleasure to keep her naughty fantasy to herself

With her hand tangled in your hair, she gently guides your lips to her nipple

“Suck it, little one”, she pleads softly

You do not need to be told twice ;)

And Bela? Oh, you draw the sweetest of sounds from her

She makes it a point to have her fingers and breast in your mouth as often as you like. She will never refuse

At times, even, she will randomly make you suck her fingers during the day merely to fluster you

Of course she will not turn you down to do either for mere comfort reasons too

She finds both actions rather comforting too, should they not happen in a sexual manner

Every time you do nibble on something, she will tease you lightly, though

Cassandra

She doesn’t think you have an oral obsession at first, just that- well- you like chewing things

She finds you biting pencil ends as you concentrate

And your fingers at times, even

Or chewing gum (which she DESPISES) for hours

Or perhaps sucking candy at every given opportunity

She doesn’t mind, she just thinks it’s intriguing once she picks up on it

When you start absently sucking the tip of your thumb when you’re concentrating, she crackles

“Maybe you should get a pacifier?”, she suggests jokingly

Never did she think she would become one

Sleeping on top of you has always been something Cassandra likes to do, with her skin pressed tightly to yours and her hand rested on yours

As such, her chest is often close to you-

Cassandra is shocked when she wakes up in the middle of the night one time from a strange feeling around her nipple

Upon looking down, she finds you have it in your mouth, having had her breast pressed up against your chin prior

She shivers and shrieks a little when you bite down occasionally

Mistakingly, she thinks this is foreplay. But when she giggles, she hears no reaction from you. You’re deep asleep

She grants you this for the night, unwilling to wake you, but will absolutely pull her sore breast away the moment you wake up

She is not a chewing toy!

The interaction has her curious, though

The next night, she slips her fingers inside your mouth as you’re barely awake. Call it curiosity

Again, in no time you start sucking them and nibbling a little. She grins at her discovery as she pulls her wet fingers away again

During the next days, she likes to randomly tip your chin and push her fingers in you

“Good pet. Suck them for me”

To clean them, she claims, but there’s nothing to clean, really. She even makes sure they’re blood-free for her precious human

You’re flustered at this, but enjoy it

During sex, Cassandra implements this too- always has, in a way

It’s as if she just takes more notice of it now

How your hands busy yourself on her while your mouth explores eagerly, biting and nibbling on her

Her lips, her jawline, her throat, her collarbone, her breasts and nipples, her ribcage and waist, her hip and her lower stomach, her cunt and thighs, even her behind

She gasps at each bite placed on her unexpectedly. You must really enjoy working with your mouth

She loves to have you suck her fingers, she realizes

During sex, she makes you do so while riding out your orgasm especially

She especially likes you nibbling and sucking her inner thighs

She’s sensitive there

Cassandra still enjoys teasing you about your oral obsession at any given opportunity

She likes to randomly push her fingers in you and watch you attempt to ignore them, only to end up biting down or sucking in the end

Daniela

Daniela is no stranger to a bit of an oral fixation, although hers is not quite as strong

She too enjoys nibbling on things occasionally, especially as she sleeps peacefully

It helps her relax

She loves to nibble on some of her stuffed animals, too, sometimes even strands of her hair

Still, it takes her surprisingly long to pick up this behavior in you

Then again, it’s not something that bothers her. She finds it cute whenever she finds you nibble on something

The only reason she takes proper notice of it in the first place, is because you’re cuddled up together and she suddenly feels you raise her hand, intertwined with yours, to your mouth

You’re nibbling on the tip of your nail, breath warm against her colder and soft hand

She’s a little confused by this, though looking back, she has seen you do it before

Or sucking sweet or sour candy, which she always begs she can have

Or chewing well smelling gum at nearly all times

Or nibbling on your sleeve, until it’s wet

Or biting your lip and licking it over and over again

She wonders- why do you do it? Do you like it for comfort reasons? Or also sexual ones?

Her curiosity and teasing knows no bounds, and so she promptly turns you to her and pushes her fingers inside of your mouth instead

She likes watching them slide past your lips

“Do you like that, my love?”, she asks, genuine, though teasing

You certainly do!

Daniela quickly finds she likes having you suck her nimble fingers. Especially during sex

Her favorite thing to do?

To tie you up nice and snug for her, finger herself and make her cream for you merely to push her wet fingertips in your mouth and make you lick it all off

“Do you like this, my sweet?”, she’ll tease lightly, with a knowing smirk on her soft, painted lips

She loves making you suck her fingers and swirl your tongue around them- it’s addictive to both of you

Out of all things you could suck on her body, she loves having her breasts or cunt sucked best

Her sensitive nipples rested in your mouth, or moans drawn from her when she moves lower at last

In non sexual situations, she grants you to nibble on her whenever you want

Daniela doesn’t mind, even offers getting you a stuffed animal to bite down on sometimes

She also makes sure you always have chewing gum or candy on hand

Even if she wants it for herself

She still enjoys pushing her fingers in your mouth too, if only to see your reaction, then swarm off giggling to herself

[regretful-nights-regretevator]

Alright, i've been quiet for quite a while, so y'know what!!

While i'm in the procedure of getting my shit together and work on bios, might as well write some resumes for the characters in the AU!!

Bive has been driven to insanity trying to find a cure for her lost arm

DrRetro is a doctor who's officially liscensed, but in danger due to her super-secret role in the story

FleshCousin is actually sentient but barely talks (Whenever it talks, it just says a bunch of nonsense), and trying to mimic others to try and fit in

Gnarpy is a metal singer who turned away from universe-conquest business and is considered a traitor in their homeplanet

Infected is a part of Gnarpy's metal band, and is the bassist. His illness was cured when it became it's own self. Will get back to it later!!

Jermbo is Jermbo. Ok but fr he is DrRetro's lil assistant that was found near an abandoned factory.

Lampert is an employee at Lokea (the name of the location in the AU). Was friends with Infected before his illness, who took a part of his memories with them. Lampert wishes he could be friends with him again, so he tries to hang out with him more, hoping they could be friends like the first time.

Who the fuck is Linus

Mannequin Mark is BITCHLESS and decided to create his own husband. With a lot of cement, he was able to create Wallter. All he needed was him to be sentient and alive. But how? He doesn't even know, he's looking for a way to bring him alive.

Melanie is working with DrRetro for uhmmm SPOILER reasons, all i can say that she's very poly with Mozelle and Infected :3

Mozelle is still the princess of hell, and she's gay. The end. (Her concept is a wip)

Poob is very aware of what's been happening, and tries to distract themself from reality by partying and drinking

Pest doesn't give a single shit about Dr Retro and what she's doing in the bg this time, he's just a loner. Has to deal with Poob's bullshit all day.

Pilby is a stage actor, and their mom and them are very much reunited. They're friends(?) with Pest, and they're also very aware of the truth about what's been happening.

Prototype's parts were found by Scag, and she assembled his pieces. Trying to find out about the truth behind the people who made him. (spoiler: he was designed as a war machine, but none of the robots they made gave a shit about world domination, and Prototype was an abandoned model.)

Reddy is Reddy.

Scag is a mechanic, and is helping Prototype find out about who made him.

Split is Bive's wife, who owns a resort previously owned by her parents. She is very mother-coded, as she has her own adopted child.

Spud! is aggressive towards gnarpians, and is looking specifically for the gnarpians who ruined his life, including Gnarpy, who only helped for his kidnapping.

Unpleasant is the sentient being that used to be Infected's illness. She became Infected's roommate, until Poptart mysteriously disappeared. Infected blamed Unpleasant and kicked her out of the appartment, leaving her homeless and not having any skills in anything. She was found by Jeremy, and now he's taking care of her at his place. Also they go mwah mwah :3

Wallter is Wallter.

Folly is the mastermind behind the whole story. I'll get to that another day :3

And that's it lol!! This took a whole hour to type, not joking LMAO

[blood-teeth]

hello! just listened to the spotify playlist for "this grave calls you home" and i am SOOO HYPED for the demo release!! how's the progress going so far? awesome music taste btw i'd love to know more; is this your first time developing an interactive story, and how long have you been stirring this idea in your head for? :D reading about it makes me want to rewatch the media it's inspired by lol. esp alien

howdy there!!

AHHH THANK U SO MUCH!! you have no idea how much this ask made my day :') !!! u are so, so sweet!! i try really hard with these playlists lol so i'm soooo glad!!

progress is going good!!! I have all of the prologue coded!! i had the thought just to drop it this week to let everyone have a little sense of the tone of the story, but I do want to add a few more things to it since the pro really is only a page.

i'm wanting to try composing somewhat of a soundtrack for the game, so that'll take me a bit, but the pieces won't be overly complicated because music theory is mine enemy >;(

it is not my first time developing an interactive story!!

Tell Me If There's A Way Home was the first story i ever posted online and something i first started writing in 2019 and posted here on tumblr in 2021. it's, like, literally the story of my heart. so i've spent the better part of 5 years (!!!!) trying to get it right. i reformatted tmitawh from an interactive novel to an actual real life novel that i'm currently trying to query to literary agents. (trad publishing is HELL) while i've been working/waiting on this, i've been doing something stupid and making a game about it (???) idk perhaps more to come on this later. the reality of trad publishing is that your book just may never be sold, straight up. so i'm preparing other ways for everyone to be able to witness this story just in case.

The Mouths Of Elysium is currently my OTHER IF that I'm (still!!) working on. a small demo for this is available here! this was inspired by my terrible brain's obsession with Jim Henson's Labyrinth and also my desire to see women be terrible and twisted because i think it's hot. i am not sorry about this >:-)

This Grave Calls You Home hit me like a lightning strike pretty much immediately after watching Interstellar. in the past, I've also posted something about a post-apocalypse story after humanity fled to the stars, but felt that this too was not right and so I took a break from this to figure out the story a bit better. it came to me 2 years later in the form of this story!! i was compelled by this idea of a lone astronaut. they're literally like cowboys, just in a different setting. loneliness is the singular thing that scares me most in this world, above anything tangible and not. space is the epitome of loss, of loneliness. nothing exists and therefore, you do not exist. i became so very nearly feverish with this idea of an astronaut lost forever in space, the memory only barely surviving the absence and then the implications of this as well.

i also love media where the narrator of the story is not the main character and more of a witness. of course, the MC of TGCYH changes the story based on the choices you make while reading, but in truth The Astronaut is the protagonist of this story. this story doesn't exist without The Astronaut.

a lot (read: all ) of my work revolves around this concept of loss, grief, and then the after. what does it look like when you are a stranger to yourself after these traumatic events. what does it look like when you have to manually pick the pieces of yourself off the ground, hands shaking as you slot them back together in this now fucked up, mismatched picture of who you were before. what happens when you realize you have to start from scratch with all new pieces. is it better to get back what you've lost, or is it better to move on? this question propels everything i write, i think.

[saxandviolins77]

scrapper and/or devastator for the character bingo? i really enjoy your thoughts on both of them!

Did you just ask about my favorite Constructicon (and, by proxy, my favorite TF character)? And did you just ask about my favorite combiner?

Also, going to be doing the rest of the Constructicons too since I was asked.

Any excuse to ramble, I guess.

Let's start with Scrapper boy because holy shiiiiit.

What can I even say without repeating myself? He's just THAT guy. An engineer, an artist, and a PSYCHO! Seriously, I am not reaching here; he fits into the "cultured psychopath" trope perfectly (think Hannibal Lecter). However, the thing that elevates Scrapper and gives his character a bit more texture is the fact that he is a truly modest and competent leader; unlike most generic psychos who get lost in their egos, Scrapper doesn't have that, nor does he have illusions of grandeur. He may be a true psycho and maniac, but that doesn't stop him from being a decent person, a good leader, and a model soldier. Perfect character.

Now I'll say, I'm very picky with Scrapper, and I'll say there's barely any people out there who truly get his character. What do I mean specifically? Well, some people either write him as a 100% remorseless and awful goon or a spineless soft leader who is just that nice... and maybe they gloss over the fact he puts BODY PARTS in his projects. Another crucial thing people miss is the fact that his modesty applies to his work, NOT TO HIS ART! HE LIKES TO GET PRAISED FOR HIS ART; IN FACT, HE RELISHES IN THAT PRAISE. He is an artist, after all; our food is compliments lmao.

Another take I see about him that is just... Uncalled for... Are people saying he's secretly insecure... I think you missed the point; go back to the drawing board. (Of course a character not being 100% confident all the fucking time is normal and healthy for your writing, but turning his modesty into some inferiority complex is... Questionable).

Either way, if they make a new TF show with Scrapper in it... They should contact me so I can write him.

NOW DEVASTATOR!!

It's a big robot.

It's a big robot that destroys everything.

It's a big robot that destroys everything, and it's a fusion of 6 smaller robots that turn into the coolest vehicles ever.

I think I've made my case clear.

Devastator was a "love at first combination" thing. It must've been my already existing love for Bruce and The Hulk, but daaaaamn the way I gravitated toward this guy was surreal, to say the least.

The nature of him being a combiner makes it so I don't have much value to add outside of appreciation for aesthetics and baseless headcanons.

I'll say, I don't like when people write him as SUPER mature. He has to be either a dumb brute or a dumb kid, but I'm not so picky with him because, like... less than 10% of fics have him (one day I'll find myself bored enough to make an actual chart or something).

I also liked his scenes in ExRID #38 and I love how Andrew Griffith draws him (he makes Long Haul's truck bed the thighs 😍...)

Bingo!!

Long-time followers know that Long Haul is my second favorite Constructicon.

Bingo!!

Nobody understands him like I do. NOBODY! I have an almost spiritual connection to this fictional robot I'm so fr rn.

I'm not going to talk AT LENGTH here, because I'd rather dedicate one post just for him (in the distant future of an inspiration burst, that is).

Though I'll say the concept of a guy who is physically bound to a career he hates and wishes to do something else, wishes to be valued, and seeks excitement he doesn't currently have in his shitty existence, but still remains in the same career because he knows everything goes to shit without him...It's just a good fucking concept.

I'll forever thank Bleszinski for making him a logistician in IDW 2019. Good lord, what an improvement!

(If you squint, you can see why I pair him with Dirge, except I enjoy Dirge's suffering.)

BONECRUSHER.

I've made a whole post about Bonecrusher already, and that's that; it has all the reasons he's awesome and barely anyone gets him.

He's just so fucking awesome, and his design is awesome as well. I just like these stoic types that have anger issues and violent tendencies, go figure.

He's... Awesome... *dies*

NOW MIXIE!!

Wanna hear a secret? He's the self-insert one.

Uuuuh, BINGO!!!

I love him so much, but for some reason I barely talk about him?? And it isn't some personal gripe like it is with Scavvy, my opinions very much align with everyone else's opinion about him... Maybe that's it, and I don't feel there's much to add to him in the public discussion as there is with the others.

Either way, I love this crazy guy who melts people into his mixing drum and cackles like a maniac. What more do you want, really?

One thing that bugs me is when people overdue his craziness into soap opera schmuck without consideration for him as a person and his agency. A little ableist, innit? (not targeted, btw, it is kind of common).

Dunno, maybe he is "crazy" and maybe everyone else and him are ok with it; what if then, uh? Maybe this isn't some burden; what if, uh? I'm sure there are other things to explore with him; be so fr.

[seirooo0]

I fucking lost it

Type: Drabble (??????????)

Synopsis: You, a robot. Rui, your creator

Content warnings: GN!Reader as usual : 3, probably angst if I can write angst good enough; Uhhhhhhh you got abandoned yaur hahhahahahaha

C. Note: I've lost it, have this content before I disappear for the next few months again <3 love you guys fr fr — Thing under cut!!

For as long as you remember, you were created for the purpose of accompanying someone..

That someone was your creator.

You were created to be with him, to cater his needs—particularly the need for a friend. Despite the fact you don't quite show the enthusiasm when he rambles about his little inventions or when he has a new show idea, you still show that you're listening to him regardless of your inability to feel emotions or express yourself. "So this one brings you anything you need or want, just say its name and the thing you want it to bring to you!" Exclaimed Rui, showing off a robot in his hands. You nodded, your face painting a rather blank look as you clapped with your metallic hands "That sounds amazing." Spoken with a monotone voice. Rui's expression slowly falters as he smiles rather sadly. The concept of emotions was an alien to you, that you, subconsciously, tilted your head in mere confusion. Confused, as to why he looked sad, confused as to how you made him sad. Question after question popped in your head but before you could even ask, the purple haired man shook his head. "No, it's nothing. Sorry, I just remembered something." He immediately answered, even though you haven't asked the question yet.

Of course, he knew what you were thinking—or at least assumed and got the correct answer—he made you after all. Programmed the way you think, behave, move, speak, everything. That's why it's not a wonder how he knows almost everything you're about to say even though you haven't opened your mouth yet.

Truly, truly, you knew you cannot replace a real human, someone to accompany Rui; your creator. You cannot replace the warm feeling of talking to a human being. You cannot replicate the emotions and the enthusiasm one would have when talking with someone. You cannot emphasize, you cannot replace whatever every human has. You are made of metal after all—pure metal—and some computer programming shenanigans. Even though you are unaware of some things, this one you are fully aware of. And because of that awareness, rather than feeling a tiny bit of relief that you are able to at least alleviate the pain of loneliness, you felt pity. Not only towards him, but also towards yourself. The you whose only sole purpose was to accompany Rui and make his days less dreadful and yet you brought nothing more but a sole reminder of the boy's loneliness.

You wished for the best for him, you encouraged him to talk to others thanks to your advancing AI knowledge. After all, he programmed you to be an AI who learns based on experience. So from all the research and data gathering you did—even though you barely understood emotional needs, you couldn't really make your heads or tails on the topic—you brought out the best in you to help your creator. That overtime, to Rui, you felt like a real human; a real friend to him. He considered and saw you as an actual human being, not a robot he created to cope with his loneliness. Rui considered you one of his closests friends aside from Nene and Mizuki.

Time flew by rather quickly for you, or perhaps it's because you don't really have a sense of time. But now you watch as the once young middle schooler slowly grows in his second year of highschool. You couldn't always be there for him, since they never allowed a (almost) human-like robot to be a student nor a visitor there (they banned Rui from bringing you to school for a reasonable purpose). So seeing him make more friends and even reconnected with his childhood friend and a friend from middle school made your heart—albeit non-existent—feel warm. Oftentimes, he'd tell you about his troupe; how he blew this friend of his, Tsukasa, out of a canon again and up in the skies; how Emu gave him another amazing show idea— or the way Nene would profusely groan everytime Tsukasa would proclaim yet another 'poetic' speech from how Rui described it— it was rather heartwarming. Really. You couldn't be any more happier for him if you could even feel.

One day, he introduced you to his troupe, the one he always mentions day by day after school. And the first comment one of them made—Tsukasa was the name, was it?— It was quite amusing to say the least.

"You're friends with a robot, Rui?! Did you make this?"

And you watch as Rui answers with enthusiasm, answering questions while you watch Tsukasa who has a dumbfounded expression on his face. You very rarely speak, so hearing a voice out of your metallic body further shooked the duo (excluding Nene, Rui had introduced her to you first before the other two anyway). Tsukasa kept making comments about how it was possible that Rui made this, you being a robot. Something a 5-year-old child would fawn over. Similar situation with Emu, however she complimented you more than anything, and that made you smile—or at least, you think you smiled. You couldn't really tell.

"Is it right to call it a 'friend' rather than your creation, though? I mean, aren't robots incapable of feeling anything?"

Tsukasa absentmindedly commented, which brought you back to painful reality.

You were never human. Right.

Watching as Rui talked more with his friends, even saying along the lines of "How cruel Tsukasa-kun! My friend here may be a robot but they accompanied me throughout my earlier years!" although maybe more dramatically. Tsukasa apologized to you, but you don't really understand why there was a need for it. Nevertheless, you never dared to ask.

Throughout the conversation, you felt rather… for a lack of better words; alienated. Sure, you're aware that you're not human. But having it pointed out made it… how would you call it.. awkward on your side, perhaps.

But of course, like any other time. You didn't mind. You're not programmed to think about complicated things after all.

However, watching him slowly drift away from you was something you expected from the beginning. But nevertheless, you were happy for him.

At least, you think you do.

But now that you've thought about it, you constantly refer to this weird thing as 'feel', 'feeling', any other synonym it has. From all the research you've done after your dilemma over this issue, you came to a conclusion that indeed; you are feeling emotions. And perhaps, one of the biggest flaws as a continuously learning AI robot is slowly learning what they are. You felt happy for Rui, but you knew that his slow yet painful detachment to you was overpowering your happiness. However as a creation whom Rui believed to be flawless, you refuse to speak about this out loud. You knew that as much as Rui made you this advanced, he never intended to give you any emotions. He never intended, because he doesn't know how to. And also maybe to avoid making you feel sadness. After all, happiness will never be without sadness, the same as dark cannot exist if there's no light.

So here you are, finding that you are more and more in a 'shutdown' state. Usually, it was automatic as a way of resting and recharging your battery. However, Rui reprogrammed you to be powered off manually now, and you never dared to ask why.

Now, you're here. Finding yourself sitting down on the floor absentmindedly as Rui looked at you with a rather melancholic look before approaching you leisurely. Muttering a silent gratitude, you watch as he reaches for your power button. You couldn't quite see his face clearly, but you assumed he wore a sad smile; the same smile you remembered he always wore back in middle school. Watching with a blurry vision, Rui puts you inside the closet, keeping you locked away until the next time he uses you. You wished that you could be used again— to see his face again and tell you about his new invention, or his new show idea. But now, it feels like a faraway dream as you slowly slip out of consciousness.

The last image you had seen was his face, slowly disappearing as he closed the closet door.

It was enough to make you cry, but you couldn't.

Silently, you wished you could.

————————————————————————————————————————————

Footnote: We eating good tonight

[boiledbasil]

All for sumire

i have literally no idea if you were serious about this so i'ma just get through as many as I can before I get tired and uhh also some that I wanted to answer in general :D

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they're lying?

I'd say that yea, she is, she will start crying, sobbing on the fucking floor and 5 mins later she just gets up like "alr time to make dinner"

if you want to know how she's lying, you'd probably tell by her tone of voice or how she's smiling

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

nah she doesn't but she thinks it a cool concept

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

anger and frustration, sumire my girl you gotta get better coping mechanisms for your bottled up anger and sadness smh

😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily?

I think she just, barely does, anymore- it'd only happen if she was VERY sad and stressed

👊 PUNCH - are they quick to violence?

violence is a big no-no

unless they like. actually deserve it (cough cough wd kenshin COUGH)

💢 ANGER - what are some habits they have that will take some getting used to?

she's prone to falling asleep during the day, and sometimes can be a little nosy when it comes to peoples personal lives, even if she tries her best not to cross boundries

👪 FAMILY - what is their family like? what is your ocs relationship to them? does your oc have any siblings?

she actually has a rly good relationship with her parents in all au's! no siblings but she does love her parents, they just work a little too much for her to talk to them that often.

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

probably fight I'd say, maybeeee on the verge of freeze

💤 SLEEPING - do they fall asleep easily? what helps them sleep?

I think this one's pretty obvious

🥞 PANCAKE - what is their comfort breakfast?

random fruit that's in the fridge or fried eggs

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?

her birthday is on july 11th! she likes her birthday and celebrating it with small gatherings :)

🍩 DONUT - favourite sweet treat?

donuts or muffins

🍟 FRIES - do they order food often? or they prefer to cook their own food?

she usually cooks her own meals, but she's kinda bad at cooking anything than isn't a quick simple recipe

🍓 STRAWBERRY - do they eat their fruit & veg? what is their favourite fruit or vegetable?

indeed she does :3 also she likes bananas

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

nothing of too much importance, just some small trinkets from her family, they're special to her but they don't hold a ton of value to her.

💐 BOUQUET - create a bouqet for them! what do those flowers mean? are any of the flowers their particular favourite?

when I was thinking of flower symbolism for sumire I picked zinna's and petunias, petunias mean perseverance and hope along with anger/resentment, and zinna's mean friendship and lasting affection!

I think she just likes all flowers though, they're all pretty to her :D

🌋 VOLCANO - how bad is their temper? is it a slow boil, or a instant explosion?

slow boil, she doesn't like getting angry or upset at people

🌌 MILKY WAY - what was the inspiration behind your oc? what was the first thing you decided about them?

actually, i've had a TON of oc's over the years, Sumire was just the only one that I actually finished and have a sort of story for- everyone else was pretty much a self-insert- most of my inspo though just came from other oc's and generally what colours/clothes i liked

the first thing I decided about her though was probably the name! liked it since childhood, and I didn't like using my own name as a kid for self inserts, so sumire it was!

⚾ BASEBALL - can they play sports? what is their best position if they play a team sport? what's their strong suit (speed, power etc.)?

haha no.

she's a decent runner though!

📣 MEGAPHONE - how loud are they? what do they speak like? got a voice claim?

she has a clear voice, but it's on the softer side and low pitched, no voice claim tho :(

🪤 MOUSE TRAP - what will always lure them into certain danger? a loved one in danger? a promise of something they are always searching for?

loved ones.

and sleeping on the side of the road that probably lures her into danger too ig

📸 CAMERA - do they enjoy having their picture taken? what's their go-to pose? do they like taking photos? what do they take photos of?

she likes photos, but doesn't take any of herself, also her go to pose is usually just ✌️

✂️ SCISSORS - what is the "last straw" for them to cut someone out of their life? how easily do they let go of people?

lmao no anyone bad in her life probably still has some way to text her, she just doesn't talk to them like, at all anymore

the last straw would have to be something really terrible that she'd cut them out-

💎 DIAMOND - how rich are they? can they live the lifestyle they want to?

slight upper middle class, gives her the chance to do stuff she likes :3

🍼 BABY BOTTLE - what are their thoughts on children?

she likes talking with them, often treating them as more of someone her own age rather than a child

🎤 MICROPHONE - are they good at singing? what is their go-to karaoke song?

she doesn't sing a lot, but her voice is pretty good! not great, but good.

📚 BOOKS - how were they at school? what is their best subject? what is their worst subject? do they have a favourite subject?

she gets good grades because she does a lot of self studying so it's pretty average, the problem is that she doesn't understand jack shit because she sleeps during class

🎡 FERRIS WHEEL - are they someone who wants to kiss at the top of the ferris wheel?

classic romance scene, yes, but she wouldn't be the one initiating it

⏳ HOURGLASS - are they usually late or on-time?

on time, usually gets there around 5-10 minutes early

🔫 PISTOL - do they trust people easily? how easily will they turn their back to someone? have they been backstabbed before? will they betray someone if given an ultimatum?

Trusts people a tiny bit too easily i'd say- uhh hold on ima speed through this one-

no she wouldn't turn her back on someone if possible, yes (sort of idk if it counts), anddd no.

🎀 RIBBON - how would they fit into other worlds / aus? what aus would you like to try out? what fictional world would they fit / not fit into?

I've done the wd au so far, but I do have some thoughts for other au's that could've been cool:

a timekeeper, a merchant, a traveller, stuff with a sort of royal au that isn't the wd au? and cyberpunk :DD

📎 PAPERCLIP - a random fact.

do you think sumire's hair is fluffy? dw it is it's just fucking tangled as hell

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

(does it count as a hc if it comes from the creator?? ehh idk)

she's heard a lot of people scream and cry in pain over the phone

🌪️ TORNADO - what is the biggest change you've ever made to them? how have they changed from their original version?

biggest change was probably her personatlity, I didn't know what kind of personatlity she'd have so sometimes it could feel more like a self insert-

she's still rly inconsistent a lot, but I think I actually kind of know how I want her character to be :3

🌈 RAINBOW - what advice would they give to their younger self?

to her middle school self:

"it's alright if you don't always like yourself, and it's alright to tell someone about it, there will always be people around you who care just as much as you do."

💓 BEATING HEART - what gets their heart racing?

small forms of physical affection other than hugs (like just a lil hand hold) and words of reassurance

💗 GROWING HEART - if they have a crush, is it noticable? what changes when they're in love?

lmao no she's burying that crush till the day she dies

probably the least likely person to confess in BM (or just in general-)

nothing rly changes tho she still tries to treat them as normal without changing anything

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

usually words of affirmation or physical touch

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

HUGS!! (nicer if other person initiates) and also small gifts

💔 BROKEN HEART - what could their partner do that would absolutely break their heart?

major distrust

wow holy shit that took WAY longer than i thought it would XD

I did skip a few cus either I didn't feel like it or don't have an answer-

gonna actually tag this tho so I can use it for later but uhhh I need food and a nap gn chat <3

[tugoslovenka]

Sanguinans

Summary: Tephraxa had never thought of blood afflictions much, not until a pale elf by the name of Astarion came into her life. She now craves the feeling, and longs for the full moon when the vampire is at the height of his bloodlust.

TW: Blood stuff, knife play, some gore

Sanguinans adjective san· guin· e· ous bloodthirsty; of, relating to, or involving bloodshed; of, relating to, or containing blood

A/N: This is an edited re-post after I fixed up some stuff that I didn't originally like. This is one of the more hardcore smuts I've done so, I suppose read at your own disposal?

Also available on AO3!

Tephraxa had never pondered about the smell of blood.

She used to quickly tend to cuts, knowing the dangers of leaving an open wound to fester for too long. She didn��t mind the metallic taste that occasionally tinged her tongue when she accidentally bit the inside of her cheek.

Yet, life’s crimson elixir was a fragrance she now carried. A path of punctuated passion trailed from the crook of her neck down to her lower belly, where it ended in a deep gash. The pooling was thick at the surface, scarlet in color and running hotter than the heritage she inherited from Zariel.

It was comforting to her now, the sight of her own injuries. 

The pale elf she had the fortune of meeting taught her many things. She wasn’t innocent in pleasures of the flesh, but what he offered was akin to the celestial delights people spoke of in the Upper Planes.

The first time his fangs found their mark was during a desperate plea for aid, a starved beast that craved food for sustenance, lest he die. Tephraxa wasn’t too keen on the idea, but ultimately decided to give in. What felt like an ice pick jabbing at her skin soon turned into a numb pain that overwhelmed her—and ultimately scrambled any sense for self-preservation. She wouldn’t dare admit her stifled moans as he drew blood, though she was almost certain he was too busy to notice. What surprised her was that she was his first—more than a rotting rat found in the lowest depths of the Lower City.

That night marked the beginning of a twisted relationship that would reshape her forever.

During a particularly rough fucking, Astarion told her he would keep suckling at the memory of her even after she was long gone. Even in a thousand years, when he would all but forget how to love, it would be Tephraxa who would flit back into his heart. 

If she didn’t offer hers on a platter before that, she thought.

Toxicity manifested itself in many forms. While she was familiar with numerous ailments that caused physical suffering due to it, what they both shared could undoubtedly be categorized as such.

Bloodlust had been an alien concept before meeting him. The nocturnal creatures typically associated with such cravings lurked in the shadows, seeking a quick fix when no one was looking—which was especially heightened during a full moon. She soon learned however, that a full moon held a special place in his tragic history.

Astarion had passed during one. Centuries of torment had blurred some of the details, but he could still recall the pale moonlight gently kissing his skin on that fateful evening, when a group of Gur took issue with his rullings. The high elf used to be a magistrate with a power to strike down those who the Council saw as disposable, she learned. Cazador was his savior the same night, rescuing him from the vagabonds with an offer of eternal life.

An offer he would come to regret, realizing how long "eternity" truly was. Two centuries he spent trapped beneath the Szarr estate, sustaining on diseased rodents and long-lost memories of a once he once led. 

It was during a full moon that he was turned. He could barely remember the blur turning into blackness as his life drained alongside the only self he knew himself to be. From that day forward, he would be known as Astarion, the charming servant who had served the Szarr family.

Hence, every full moon ushered in an animalistic, voracious side of Astarion that stripped him of all reason. His charming demeanor gave way to an insatiable hunger, rendering him more beast than man. She witnessed his struggles to restrain it during their first month of travel. Whether due to trauma or sheer habit, his fangs grew sharper, nails longer, eyes ruby red at the sight of the smallest droplet of blood—like the one that had trickled down Tephraxa's skin when she injured herself in battle.

It took every bit of his control to stop from gnawing at her arm, as he had later confessed.

In the second month, she watched as he savagely tore animals apart in the forest, drinking their blood until he fell unconscious from the copious amounts he had consumed. At the time, she had already agreed to becoming his bloodbag—a term he detested—and she couldn't help but wonder if her consistent feeding was contributing to his further descent into madness.

Tephraxa couldn’t remember when this blood sharing turned into something more perverse. Maybe it was the hardness she felt against her thigh as he latched onto her neck that ignited something inside her. Even in her weakened state, she reached out to touch it, which elicited a moan so delicious, she had it etched in her mind ever since.

It began slow, noviced even. His fingers were deep inside of her, exploring her cunt with three digits while his fangs worked her throat. A drawn out moan had him momentarily lose control, driving them deeper until she swore he could feel him biting into her vocal cords.

The dagger came next. He used it as a way to tease—mostly himself—preventing his throbbing fangs from finding release as he made shallow cuts on her body, using his tongue to trail the blood that trickled down her purple skin.

What Astarion hadn’t mastered however, was the ability to feed while he was buried inside her. By the time their foreplay finished, he already had her blood coursing through his veins, content enough to not require more. The only goal he was preoccupied with was to fill her to the brim—an exchange, he had called it—her blood for his seed.

There was something invigorating about slowly growing fatigued, limbs shaking from lightheadedness as she felt the suckle of his teeth take from her life force. Heat occasionally escaped her body and for a few moments, she was as cold as he was. She was completely at his mercy, weakened, pale, with every nerve screaming for pause.

But she wouldn’t give in. All she needed was his touch. It was the only refuge she sought.

“What a delectable sight," Astarion commented, dragging his thumb softly over the gash on her lower belly as blood began pouring out. The tiefling used her tail to balance herself, hands bound together by rope so as to prevent her from moving. "You love to be defiled, don't you, my sweet?"

Astarion’s voice was sickly sweet, speaking in a tone one would to a dim-witted mutt. He reached a hand over the cut, pressing down and eliciting a loud yell from Tephraxa. She began shivering, feeling a cold sweat build up at her temples and drop down her body.

He smoothed an adoring hand over her hair, coating it in blood as he tutted in disapproval. “Though I adore your pained screams, darling, I do believe you are making too much of a fuss.” He reached down to grab her smallclothes, bunching them into a ball before shoving it in her mouth.

She could taste the earthiness on them and almost gagged at the grassy texture on her tongue. Astarion had kneeled before her, admiring the laceration that was yet another decoration added to the collection of many depraved memories they shared.

His lips began kissing one end gently, coating his lips in blood as he looked up at her. She was completely paralyzed. Had it not been for the tip of her tail keeping the slightest bit of stability, she would have keeled over from exhaustion.

His tongue curled, licking away at the now-dried blood below her abdomen and seeking out the crimson heat as it was continuing to pour from her bowels. ���Delicious as ever, my love,” he purred, grabbing a hold of her hips and keeping her steady as he hungrily lapped.

It felt like an eternity.

For a brief moment, Tephraxa was certain they had gone too far. She could no longer feel his tongue or touch, and she swore she lost her hearing when he dipped his tongue inside her injury. It was only when she felt two fingers reach for her cunt that she jolted awake, a shot of adrenaline coursing her to blink to attention. Astarion began pumping his fingers—coated in her juices and blood—keeping her balanced with his other hand while his tongue was licking her injury clean. Her eyes shut, a mixture of pleasure and pain overwhelming her. She began fighting her constraints, willing closure, but the elf had ensured she remain firmly restricted.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Astarion’s focus on her. His eyes were glazed over, and she wasn’t sure if they had turned completely black instead of the scarlets that commanded her. 

He reached forward and with a small tug, her smallclothes fell to the ground as a string of spit followed suit. Quickly, he took her lips in his, immediately tasting the metallic flavor of her own blood as he did so. She moaned in response, not hesitating to allow his tongue to coat her insides with more of it.

The restraints on her lower body had loosened a moment later, Astarion having expertly unhooked them during the passionate kiss. It was only then did she realize just how weak she was, as in an instant, she began falling forward, legs too weaked to support her weight.

“Easy now, darling,” Astarion whispered, cupping the sides of her hips as she crashed her body into his. “I may have indulged a little too much.”

“No…”  Tephraxa immediately retorted, weakly looking up in his direction to find his eyes. “No. I—I’m fine.”

He smiled in return, an expression she could only recognzie as a challenge. He often pushed his darling to her limits, making sure to take her to the point of no return before giving her a release. “The little death”, he called it, and it was only a matter of time before she thought they would go too far, make an unfixable mistake that would bring about her doom.

But they never did. It was as if he knew exactly when to stop.

A hand pet the top of her head, lightly adding pressure until the tiefling understood his hint. With shaky legs and some steady guidance from him, Tephraxa lowered herself until she was at eye-level with the crotch of his trousers. She barely had time to steady herself before her hands grabbed at the bloodstained leather that already revealed the outline of his cock.

She flinched when she felt his fingers tug at her hair, aiming her gaze towards him. He looked demonic—pale and bloodied—breathing heavily as he bared his fangs. And yet, she still felt a gush of heat between her legs, a depraved response to a horrifying sight.

In one swift motion, he had dropped his trousers on the ground as the gleaming head of his cock collided with her nose. She looked at the tip, and then back at Astarion before reaching her tongue out for a tentative lick. She ran it across the whole length with the direction of his grip, before stopping at the head.

The pressure increased on the back of her skull as she pushed herself forward until her nose reached his abdomen, choking and gagging as he groaned in pleasure. He held her there, tears forming in her eyes from the pressure in her throat. She was too weak to protest—not that she would want to—the usual playfulness of the tease being taken over by a need to follow his animalistic whims.

And then, his grip loosened, disappearing entirely as he ran the same hand through his curls while fixated on her. Tephraxa opened her mouth wider, sucking more of his length back inside as she bobbed her head, making sure to dart her tongue out just as he had instructed the first time they did it. His unconscious thrusting eased her efforts, and she could feel saliva running down her chin, mixing in with the dried blood from the kiss.

Astarion gave no warning before fully pushing back in and almost knocking the tiefling into the ground. She felt the tip hit her tonsils, immediately prompting a gag from her as her throat convulsed around him.

“Remember to breathe, my love,” Astarion reminded her, thrusting with slow and deliberate strokes as he let his palm graze down her face.

She took in deep breaths from her nose, knowing it would help her take more of him in. Whether it was the cut or her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, the tiefling felt like her body was on fire. Reaching out to claw at his hips, she heard Astarion hissing and moaning as he neared his release.

He suddenly grabbed a hold of his cock with one hand while another craned her neck back up. He let his wet member rest on her cheek as tears fell, a sly grin on his face, satisfied with his work. “You take me so well, devil," he cooed.

She knew better than to ask for her own pleasure. Challenging him at the height of his bloodlust was a mistake, since he would probably opt for teasing her to the point of hurting instead. It was best she allowed him to decide when he would give her a release, even if her cunt was throbbing with need.

He set another brutal pace then, hand now gripping her hair so tightly that she was sure a few more thrusts would scalp her. A flash of steel interrupted her thoughts, and she saw the blade that left many decorations on her body rest below her chin.

“No choking,” Astarion warned.

Tephraxa nodded as he continued to pump into her throat. Every signal in her body was asking for relief, though she knew she would receive none. More brain fog occupied her as the elf quickened his pace, and she soon started seeing spots of darkness as she felt dangerously close to passing out.

Astarion seemed to have other ideas, however. The tiefling felt empty as his cock retracted violently from her mouth, leaving her agape and staring up at him like a dumbstruck animal. He kneeled down, using one hand to push her forward, and it didn’t take much before her back hit the cold dirt.

Hitching her legs up until they were hooked over his waist, he began licking down her navel until he reached the wound. He spent some time taking in the scent and admiring his work, his hand gently going over the hardening skin.

“Beautiful...” he breathed, mostly to himself. His eyes briefly met hers, before he bared his fangs, angling his head down until it reached the inside of her thigh. He had bitten there many times before, with bruises now faded enough so that he could create new ones.

It was a much smaller puncture wound as he drew the blood. He had once told her she tasted sweetest there, something about the heat coming from her core. He didn’t spend much time, knowing she had already lost too much blood already.

With no small effort, he pulled himself from the bite with a gasp, panting heavily. He slid down until he was laying on his stomach, assessing the area. Tephraxa was at a loss for words and breath, with only a whimper escaping her lips, barely.

She couldn’t find the strength to say anything. Not to scold, or compliment. 

Taking hold of her knees, he pried her legs open and leaned forward. With the grip he had on them, she knew he was trying to steady himself into control. She could hear him swallow before his lips touched the wetness on her clit. She was certain the gush had turned into a flood, because the sounds he created while lapping were similar to a full tankard of ale.

She spread her legs further, allowing him better access while barely making any noise. He pulled her hips forward, mixing in the blood trickling from her thigh with her juices, coating the slick flesh with the sin of their deed. Astarion knew better than to ask her to speak, knowing the squirming and barely-audible murmurs escaping her lips were enough praise.

He exhaled slowly once he reached either side of her slit, muttering a silent “Gods, you are delicious,” before pushing his tongue inside. Her aching entrance received some release, and his thumb found its way on her nub, massaging in slow, circular motions—just the way she liked.

Unsure of the source of her sudden strength, she began grinding her hips against his face, angling him to other bits of her wetness. The undignified whine that escaped her lips was nothing short of embarrassing, even more so considering how he had literally cut her open to bleed in the middle of it.

The sting from his fangs almost made her heart leap out of her chest. He occasionally warned—promised, to bite her cunt, never enough to actually cause injury, but the threat was enough. With a small chuckle, he continued tasting her, savoring every bit of her heat as she tightened her legs around him, squeezing weakly.

“Is my sweet ready to come?” he asked, continuing his ministrations once he heard the first audible moan escape her lips. She had enough energy to bite at her lips, feeling her pulse quicken until she could hear ringing in her ears.

“How I love that feeling,” Astarion hummed. According to him, the intensity before her orgasm quickened her pulse so much that he could feel it on his tongue. It ached in his fangs, and he had to exert inhumane levels of control to not dig them into her soft flesh when it happened.

Tephraxa threw her head back in pleasure, the dizziness making her go temporarily blind. She came undone around him with a sob, releasing mews as the aftershock of her orgasm made her body twitch involuntarily. She lay there, completely frozen, muscles shaking vigorously as Astarion continued licking, pushing his tongue in her entrance as she continued to clench.

When her breathing had finally stabilized, he released her cunt with a pop, resting his head on her thigh while grinding into the ground. Whatever blood was mixed in his hardness demanded he find release, but he would allow Tephraxa a moment before he buried himself to the hilt.

“Ast—Astar—“ she began, a series of incomprehensible sounds following what he could only discern was a compliment. The tiefling was pretty sure he was going to break her one day, but she would have lived a happy few years nonetheless.

He crawled up her body until he met her lidded gaze, a hand following to wipe away at the blood, spit and come on his lips before leaning down to give her a kiss. She didn’t respond, her withered state disallowing any muscle on her body to move. Astarion often told her she looked particularly adorable when she was flushed, a purple flush covering her cheeks—and oddly enough, the tips of her horns.

She noted the strained erection on her lower belly, gently rocking in an indication of his desire. Tephraxa hissed when she felt his sharp fingernails dig into her skin, dragging down until she felt the familiar drizzle of blood follow. Astarion’s hands patted over her flesh, covering his hands entirely before moving them between his legs.

Her clit was sensitive, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her involuntarily buckle when she felt his hand there. His other hand moved to his cock, and her eyes followed his movements until she saw him mix his pre-come with her blood—something he found surprising pleasure in.

Once he was satisfied, he pushed the head of his cock on her clit, looking down to admire his work. “I will never tire of the sight,” he muttered. He leaned down, sinking his teeth into the dip between her neck and shoulder, not to draw more, only a moan from Tephraxa who was unsure how she was able to produce any sound at all.

With a thrust, he was inside her. Her tight ring of muscle accepted him without much resistance, and Astarion roared into the cold air of the forest as he began to thrust. Tephraxa watched as his muscles flexed with each push, noting the veins that were more visible in the moonlight now that he had her blood pumping in them. She could never get used to his cold length, not entirely. Shivers ran up her spine as he rutted aggressively, opening his mouth to show fangs that must have been hurting from use.

“Mine, m—mine...” Astarion kept repeating, his eyes not leaving hers as he leaned forward until their foreheads touched. She knew she belonged to him in a way, forever bound to his needs by her blood alone—and while a much younger Tephraxa would be disgusted at the thought, she had no protests being Astarion’s bloodbag until he no longer had any need for her.

With one push of her leg, he had it hooked around his waist as he sought for depth, making sure to slow down every once in a while to admire his work. She could feel his balls slapping at her cunt when he did so, and her mouth drooled at the thought of him releasing inside her soon. It was something she learned to crave since meeting him—to be coated in his seed.

Sometimes he would choose her face to paint over. She eagerly would lap at the string of saltiness coming on her face, before he forbade her from doing so, stating that a piece of art should be kept untouched. Instead, once he was satisfied with the sight, he would feed her his spend from his own fingers until they were licked clean.

Her mouth opened in silent pleasure as he continued, now pinning her further into the ground as his thrusts became erratic, no longer rhythmic, control leaving his body entirely as he sought for release.

Tephraxa’s own body was shaking. The pain that she initially felt was now completely numbed, a pleasure washing over her that made any other sensation pale in comparison to what she felt when the full moon couplings came. Sometimes, she thought about becoming a spawn herself, if only to experience the joys that he did. But she knew he needed her for sustenance, and she was content with it.

Raw, undiluted pleasures of the flesh were no longer something she was satisfied with. Astarion had shown her a world of perversion that she would crave for the rest of her life. Even if her body was marked from his scarring, his bites, his vampirism—she wanted nothing else.

With a loud groan that echoed in the wind, Astarion’s movements suddenly halted. She felt the warmth of his seed, moving deep inside her until it coated every part of her. His cock was throbbing deep inside her, much stronger than she had ever felt before, and it was the sight of him that was her undoing as well.

She released in silence, her voice no longer being capable of making sound as her legs began to shake underneath him. She thought about the mix of her and his come, their spit and blood, and it made her tremble uncontrollably until she too, stopped moving.

Astarion would be her death, figuratively or literally.

And she would have it no other way.

[darkpoisonouslove]

🌈 ☔ :)

Why are you doing this to me? You know I don't write fluff and all the softness that I did have for my one project, I already posted. *cries*

Bad news - while going through my documents, I realized I've lost my outline for the SoL Valentine's day fic. I must have copy-pasted over it because I have a distinct memory of saving it in a document.

Good news though - before I realized this, I was just thinking that I would change most of it anyway.

More bad news - I did still intend to use a detail or two, which is why I started looking for the outline at all.

More good news - I think I have a screenshot of the part with those details.

Yet more bad news - I have to find it.

*sighs* The epic highs and tragic lows of an average day of my life. Could be worse, though. I could have gotten excited about the current version and wanted to finish it as it is.

🌈 Share something soft/fluffy from your WIP.

I hope you're happy with yourself. You've made me fill in some narrative to the dialogue in my outline for the sequel to Smolder because I had nothing else for this:

"I didn’t mean to shock you."

The words rang true enough despite the hint of smugness in Griffin's voice and the penetrating look in her eyes. If she could strip Marion bare with just her gaze, the thought of her hands doing the same left Marion shivering in anticipation.

She leaned in to avoid looking in the depths of Griffin's eyes lest she plunged in recklessly. The hitch in Griffin's breath when Marion's lips almost covered hers had her bite herself to keep from grinning like an idiot.

"Yes, you did." Trying for an authoritative tone was harder than she could ever remember it being.

"Maybe a little," Griffin agreed, the curve of her smirk carrying in her voice. She threaded a hand in Marion's curls to keep her so close that their breath mingled. "Can you blame me? I have a reputation to uphold. And a princess to keep up with."

Fire bloomed in her cheeks, her neck, her chest. She was all made of it, of the power innate to her, the essence of the whole world at her fingertips.

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Could I share several concepts that are in the early stages of development instead of one actually thought out fic idea? I don't really know what I want to do with these which makes them more at risk of not existing than ideas that I've taken in a direction I don't like and mean to rework. So here they are:

Kind of a role reversal Griffin x Marion AU where Marion died. She is brought back but that leaves her without the Dragon Fire so she's mad at Griffin for doing this to her only for Daphne to confess that it was her who brought her back. We've talked a lot about how Marion wouldn't have been able to give up her Dragon Fire the way Daphne did and I figured "What if nobody asked her? What if she didn't have a choice and was forced to live with the consequences?" I'm just so good to these characters. XD I don't know what exactly I want to do with it, however, so I've just jotted down the idea and buried it in my ideas doc.

I do also have thoughts for a sequel of The Last Dawn but they're all pretty directionless. Mostly I just want to explore further the idea that knowing when you'll lose someone poisons whatever time you have left with them because they've already got one foot in the grave and it's hard to enjoy the time you have left despite how hard you're grasping at it. I can't settle on the best way to examine that concept, though, so I don't even have a start on that one. I do want to do more with the idea of it being the last dawn for Marion as well even though she's still alive and add in something about that sentence where the sunrise is the shade of Griffin's eyes. There's a lot of angst to squeeze out from that but my thoughts are in absolute chaos.

I watched Damsel and I definitely liked it more than most of the people that have watched it. The execution is poor but I liked the (heavy-handed) themes. Besides, Bulgarian folklore has several tales of women marrying a zmey, which is the Bulgarian version of a dragon. Naturally, my thought was an AU in which Griffin wants to marry the local dragon that's been terrorizing the area so she seeks him out. I don't want her to be a victim of trickery like in the movie so I was mostly imagining her negotiating marriage terms with Valtor but I simply do not know what I truly want from it on a story level so I've left it aside for now.

I have another thousand things that could probably fit here but I don't like the thought that I won't do anything with them so I won't talk about them.

[thehopelessexception]

save me lord(e) please save me

i struggle with the concept of religion because i've never quite understood the belief on an omnipresent something watching over you and giving you a path or whatever that's supposed to mean.

i went to church probably 15 times in my life when i was younger and i was bored all the time. i took the first communion when i was 10 because my parents made me do it. (i just wanted to taste wine and receive money from my family tho) but i remember that by that time i already rejected the concept of it. maybe because i was deppressed from the very age of 8 years old and i wanted to kms since then (im over it rn fyi), so the whole god thing it wasnt much enough to make me have faith in anything because i already thought i suffered more than jesus.

i've never been much close to my family, im a single child too. not to blame them really, but my parents did the bare minimum so i had to create my own moral codes from way too young. i teached myself, and educated myself on everything i know of since i was a kid. i took the responsibility of being the emotional support of adults as a child because they didnt know how to be parents nor communicate their feelings with each other (or me, for that matter). i hided my own. and when i was on my breaking point i took care of myself at 13/14 i think? and made myself go to therapy because i knew if i didn't i wouldnt be here today —i had to convince my mom, changing the reason i needed to go and i made her lie to my dad because he "doesnt believe in that" and so on—. my parents were clueless all the time 'till i grew up and told them my story on a crisis i had in the pandemic. they are still not the best parents you can find but i moved on from being resentful and made somehow peace.

i remember i was quite interested in the whole lucifer arc and the apocalypse stuff. when my catechist was explaining the 7(i think?) days of creation or etc i was reading the very end, fascinated as a kid reading the hunger games. probably my father's fault since he loved to watch the conspiracy shows in history channel about nostradamus and so on in the living room's tv. and also maybe because i loved chaos and i never fitted in anywhere so naturally i didnt even try.

i hyperfixated on greek gods if that helps.

at 13 i met the 1975, my favourite band (if it wasnt obvious at this point). and the first songs i listened to were girls, me, and antichrist. and i know it's very likely that you think im exaggerating but antichrist is doubtless the purest most real song i heard in my life. and i think about it a lot. the whole journey the band, and matty especially, made about religion made me think a lot through the years. i agree with him tho, but i made that entire journey when i was 9, as they said men do drugs once and discover the same things girls have discovered alone in their bedrooms at 13 years old. and today religion is a thing so foreign, and distant to me; sometimes i wonder if im missing something by not being part of that feeling.

i can't wrap my head around it, i cannot process faith because i don't find it logical. however when im lost i sometimes find myself asking for signs to "the universe", so it's complicated. i also think it's better for people that feel lost to find a communion of some kind than ending up being addicts or worse, liberals. and i also think some religions are waiting for people to have misery to sign them up on their cult.

what is religion really? what is god? is there one? or two? or millions? but what about science? the big bang? evolution? capitalism? media? how can all of that make some kind of sense altogether? i said already i am skeptical over probably everything, but the truth is that science is also a common agreement of stuff and "hard" evidence, but we don't have the certainty that things work like that in the whole universe, so technically it's not an absolute truth, it's just what works. but what is the whole universe? i trust science over anything ofc that's not what im trying to say, the thing is i lose my mind every now and then when i dig that up. because you end up thinking you are so tiny and irrelevant to the whole universe, the whole thing we live into. are we even alive at this point? is this reality real? and i know it's stupid deep thought thinking you have when you are a kid but i wrote something about this years ago in my diary and im going to quote it:

(i wrote it in my native language so the translation may suck a bit)

"(...) the human being is perfect, nature is perfect. the society is a mess but synchronously is perfectly designed to still work. what's the goal of humanity? some people believe in god, not me tho. i sometimes think people are simplistic and conformist with the unknown. weak deniers of the search of the truth. the systematization almost automatic that is used on people as individuals of each culture, each society; with the vague idea of making them believe on free will, and the freedom of choice. when there's something existing over us that influences us, dominates us, and drives us like cattle. but what is this really? (...) the different "types of control" influence all of us so we achieve an end to society. nobody question said unknown end, because they believe, they have faith; on themselves and their meritocracy, the destiny god prepared for them. to the reach of a post-civilization with all the answers, from the firm and fair science that at the same time is clinging to nothing, to the not knowing blindness. the problem with humanity is believing but not fighting for the answers. the problem with humanity is trusting in "what exists and what doesnt exist" as a concept; when you can find somehow the solution on untrusting and not believing on absolute truths, because all of those are influenced by human subjectivity. civilizations are built with absolute truths, "civilization or barbarism". the barbarism never was that much stupidified. do we live in a simulated civilization? i dont know, all i know is that i know nothing."

lately i've been thinking about religion as a support group for people, but the institution makes me yikes. i've been thinking a lot about lots of things.

and i find myself in the context where everything i know of is taking another meaning now. maybe religion is what conveys the society altogether, maybe it's something else. i don't know. the world was always at war because of religion, and the preponderance of one over another. noone can convince me that religion has nothing to do with the world war we're living rn.

i consider music as a support group, i have my own friends and we like the same things (i dont like people who i dont think somehow alike). and i like my music as a representation of my personality too. i believe one is what one consumes. i grew up here, on tumblr, and i know what i write now will probably resonate with you too.

what i know most of is possibly reading patterns on people. and what i am wondering right now is if we, as a whole, and our generation specifically, walked away too much from the "love your neighbor" premise. i may not believe in religion, but i believe in collectivism as a way to live, as a gear that sets society in motion. and me, personally, i am a hater of everything and everyone. but i can deal with it, i dont think society will. we can't make the bad people disappear, and we can't kill them all (sadly). so lately i tend to believe i have the knowledge and the wisdom to be the adult and choose to make peace with the evil, to stop fighting for making people change, and go build community, the safe space, the home, with the people who are predisposed to listen. because individualism will kill us all. and we cannot save ourselves alone.

lorde said explicitly "if you're looking for a saviour well thats not me". but here we are.

happy easter to those who celebrate.

[purplesurveys]

1951

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? That's...what I look for in my weekends now, pretty much. I'm so busy wringing out 115% of my brain during the workweek that when Friday evening rolls around I'm just too mentally exhausted to even think about making plans. Sometimes I'll see friends, but even then I prefer to just hang out at someone's house or mine. In any case, I've taught myself that rest is also productive - so I no longer feel guilty about spending my weekends couch-rotting away.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? No but it's also because I don't seriously believe in it. I like hearing stories and seeing how creepy people's POVs can get, but gun to my head I don't believe in the whole concept.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? This is a hilarious question tbh because in the Philippines, everywhere is traffic and it's impossible to gauge my worst record. I just face it everyday. Idk. Maybe the time I tried going to Leni's thanksgiving rally when she lost the elections? For a drive that'd usually take 30-45 minutes, I got to the Katipunan area only after 5 hours. Everyone else and their mothers were headed to the same rally, hence the traffic.

I missed the entire thing so to cheer me up, my friends asked if I was up to go to a bar since it had been a Friday evening anyway.

What museums have you visited, if any? Too many to count. I like museums. I've gone to most, if not all of the ones within Metro Manila + I also make it a point to visit at least 1 museum in my local and international trips.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? Yes the house behind us has like 1000 fucking kids who do nothing but cry. I've pretty much memorized the way each kid's cry sounds at this point. Filipinos are non-confrontational lmao so the most I've gone is to just furiously bang my window in their direction as a way to tell them to shut up. One time my mom directly went to them and asked them to tone it down, but it fell on deaf ears so it's just pointless.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? No.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? Fractions and advanced algebra. Statistics can also be on the easy side so long as you have the formulas memorized.

Geometry, trigonometry, and calculus were without a doubt my worst. I barely passed a single exam in high school and I'm still of the theory that my teachers probably just passed me out of pity so that I don't need to take summer classes, lol.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? It makes me feel good and warm and fuzzy! Specific to my ~fanbase, and K-pop as a whole, Armys traditionally stick up and watch out for one another so it's always nice seeing them out in the wild. Just a couple months back when Jungkook's documentary was in theatres, I instinctively offered my snacks to the fans in front of me even though we didn't know each other ahaha.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? Not the good kind. But I do hold a certain level of belief in bad luck because I always seem to hoard it.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? The only time this happens is if I go to uncommon cuisine-specific restaurants and feel like locals' eyes are on me and judging the way I eat their food. Like earlier; I was at an authentic Korean place and got kongguksu and samgyupsal – two meals that DO NOT go together and Koreans never eat together, lol. But I wanted to try kongguksu and I was craving samgyupsal so I got both. I ended up just avoiding the eyes of the native Koreans who came in to eat there HAHAHA

Have you ever considered going to art school? Not art school but close – I applied for art management in Ateneo, since I had dreams of being a museum curator. I passed the exam, but since I had already also passed UPD at that point, I had to let it go. UP was my prio anyway by an infinitely larger margin.

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? Yes, my closest cousin's dad. Aka my mom's brother/my uncle.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? Never.

Are your parents supportive of you? They are but they are also the practical/realistic kind of supportive. Badly put, if I had dreams to go to an expensive school or travel abroad, they'd cheer me on but they wouldn't give up an arm and a leg to make it happen for me; and they'd also be the first to tell me no, we can't afford it – which I understand and respect.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never.

Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? Nope. But Andi brought me to a mock courtroom once, if anything lol.

Do you have the right time set on your microwave? Yup.

Do you have any old newspaper articles? Why? I don't think we do, no.

Do you have a flat screen tv or just a regular box? Yes, flat screen.

Do you have a radar detector for your car? Nope.

Have you ever been arrested? For what? Never have.

Do you know how to change the oil in your car? Ahaha, nope. My dad prefers to do it - or when he's not here, we have a contact if it needs to be done.

Do you like Tootsie Rolls? I don't think I've ever had one, actually.

Are you seeing anybody currently? No.

Do you like it when it snows? I've never experienced snow.

Where do you do most of your shopping? Depends on what I'm shopping for. I take a liking to Uniqlo these days, though.

Do you have a big yard? It's average-sized but considering we grew up in a really cramped set-up, I'm just happy we have a backyard at all.

Do you live in the country or the city? City.

At what age did you obtain your driver license? 18.

What are you favorite kind of chips? Honey butter or baked potato chips!

Where did you go today? I was in Makati for most of the day. Work-wise, I was there to visit a print newspaper for our media rounds; but outside of work I also had a stacked agenda since I needed to buy more gifts for more relatives (it's our Christmas reunion tomorrow so it's procrastination at its very finest, LOL). All in all a very productive day and it also just so happens to be the weekend, so yay!

Are you sleepy right now? I'm getting there but I can still finish this. And maybe take another one? We'll see. I never follow through on statements like this though, hahaha.

What color is your mousepad? I don't use one but my trackpad is silver/grey.

Do you get your eyebrows waxed? Nope.

Has anyone given you flowers recently? Not since April.

Has anyone you know been arrested recently? Not arrested but pulled over for traffic violations - Gabie and Hans.

Do you have more than 1 email address? That I do.

Do you have central heating and air? No.

Are there any plants in your house? Yes, they're all my mom's. I don't really care for plants.

Do you prefer cold or warm weather? Cold.

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid. But I don't mind either.

Do you wear any perfumes/colognes on a regular basis? Yes.

Do you have high or low self-esteem levels? It depends; there are so many contexts to self-esteem. I definitely fluctuate.

When was the last time you listened to a song on repeat? What was the song? Not sure, maybe last week? It was the Japanese version of Falling by Jin, featuring Taka from One Ok Rock.

Do you like mint or orange-flavored chocolate? Mintcho is fine. Orange chocolate...I can take it or leave it.

When was the last time you burnt your mouth from eating something too hot? This rarely happens to me because I'm super sensitive to pain and automatically spit something out if I find it too hot lol.

What is your favorite foreign language to listen to? (In music or speech) Nothing tbh but if anything, maybe French.

Do you prefer instrumental songs or ones with lyrics? Lyrics.

Name something simple that makes you happy. Finding a parking slot near the entrance of where I'm headed.

What is your favorite instrument to listen to? Piano.

Pick one: Books, movies or music? Music > movies > books.

What was the last book you read about? It's a collection of history essays.

When was the last time you used a quote from a movie in real life? Earlier. My sister made a White Chicks reference and my instinct was to sing the Guantanamera bit that happens in the opening scene lol

Can you put your legs behind your head? I probably could. I did it a lot as a kid hahaha. I know it will 100% hurt more at 26 but I'm pretty sure I still can.

Do you forget things easily? Yes. :(

The last song you listened to: Did it have a male or female vocalist? 7 boys.

Have you ever had braces? Do you need them? I did and I have them again now.

What does your voice sound like? (Loud, quiet, high-pitched, etc) It's on the deeper side but nothing too deep that I'd get mistaken as a boy. It just doesn't really have that softness that most girls I know tend to have. Idk how else I can explain my own voice, sorry hahah.

What was the last topic you read about on Wikipedia? I looked up Niki cos I just got quickly curious about how she shot up to fame in such a short amount of time.

Have you ever donated money to Wikipedia? No.

What board games did you play when you were growing up? Just traditional/common ones like scrabble, snakes and ladders, checkers etc.

Do you know any sign language? Like less than 10 words, so no.

When was the last time you bought new clothes? What did you get? Earlier! I got this elegant-looking day dress from Uniqlo that I'm planning to wear to the Christmas party on my dad's side.

Do you ever watch streamers on Twitch? Nope.

Has your house ever been broken into? How did you find out? It has not.

What do you usually eat for breakfast? I don't eat anything and just fix myself a cup of coffee.

Are you overwhelmed right now? Not anymore because it's the weekend.

Did you share a bedroom with someone when you were growing up? I didn't even have my own bedroom growing up, so the default answer here is yes. I didn't get my own until I was around 10/11.

How many group chats are you in? Do you participate in them much? So many. GCs are just everyday life for Filipinos. I have more active GCs than active threads with individual people.

Are you still in touch with any of your exes? No.

What do you do for work? I do local PR for the biggest consumer brands in the world that you 100% know about.

Were you upset when you found out certain things weren’t real? (Santa, Tooth Fairy…) I was always a bit of a realistic kid and kind of had an inkling that none of them were real. It was my parents working overtime trying to convince me that they were, hahaha.

Name something you’re proud of. Brag a little bit. I've been sponsoring my family's noche buena and media noche for the last 3 years :) We weren't dirt poor in my growing-up years but we definitely had to save more than we could spend, so it just as well felt like we were poor. Getting to a point where I can ask them whatever they wanted to eat and shush them about worrying about the price definitely feels good.

Which store would you like to win $1000 for? Nike.

Do you pay any attention to celebrity drama? I pick and choose which ones to follow. I'm definitely not, like, chronically online if it comes to things like this.

What popular food do you dislike? Ice cream. I eat slowly, so we're incompatible from the get-go!

Do you have any cats? Yes we have our Maxwell George :)

How many slices of pizza can you eat in 1 sitting? Sometimes 1, sometimes 3.

[brainisonfire]

I really hope this won't come across as a way to compare different kinds of illnesses and struggles cause it's not, it's just stuff I thought about while listening to the great impersonator that I needed to share. at the end of the day, I'm just a mentally ill bitch lol

i still need time to process this record well enough to be able to fully put into words the amount of things that im feeling, but this whole thing about this album is bringing back things. so im sorry if this is going to be sort of a trauma dump.

in february one of my best friends lost her mother to cancer, and even tho it's not my trauma and my loss to claim it hit harder than i expected (and yes, i do feel like shit for expecting it to hit less). my friend and i grew up basically as one, we've been together since we were three years old, we spent so many afternoons in her room playing with her mum. i knew that woman too well to act like it didn't hurt me as well, but im not going to pretend it's my loss to grieve. she had a family i need to stay closer than ever now.

all of this was to say that when she died something in my brain snapped. i had the kind of reaction that makes you go 'life is short. i can't keep wasting mine. anything could happen at any minute. i dont want to go with these many things left unsaid'. which felt insane, and also kind of bad if i have to be honest, because years ago when my father died i didn't have the clarity of mind to act the same way and i wish i did.

it lasted a few months and then i fell back into my usual mental patterns and old habits, which I'm definitely not proud of, but i really do believe that even tho i keep telling myself that i went back to therapy because i needed an ocd diagnosis and someone to help me manage it (which is something that was and still is definitely very real), i actually needed to know i was working in a direction where i could, someday, be at least well enough to be there for my friends when they need me. because i fear that, right now, I'm not. and it's not fair to them to always have to second guess if they can call me or not when they need a shoulder to lean on, especially when tragedies like that happen. i want to be able to give them my undivided attention, not to have to fight against my brain to be able to barely have the energy to listen to them.

it was weird to listen to this album and realise that I can (in my own personal way, i dont want it to sound like i know the exact same pain h experienced cause i didn't go through the same things she did) relate to both of the points of view. my chronic illness is not nearly as debilitating as what she had to go through, but in my tiny way I've been both the 'heavy heart' that's 'too much to hold' and the one that wanted to try to be there for someone else and couldn't because of my own issues. and I swear im trying so hard to not repeat the same mistakes. im far from perfect, but I'm trying to show up more for the people that i love.

I'm not the kind of person that needs to do something big with their life or to give meaning to it etc, but i do need to know that it's worth it, that the bad parts are balanced by something positive. and, right now, i still dont know how to hope for things, cause a future is still not a concept i feel comfortable in yet. if i have to be completely honest i never pictured myself getting this far, but now that I'm here i might as well try to *actually* be here, at least for the people i care about. I can't do that if i dont start seriously working on things i avoided for ten years, and grief plays a huge part in this because spoiler: no matter how much time it passes, it still hurts.

i wish 13yo me didn't shut down completely and was able to process things instead, but apparently it's a job for 23yo me. i still need to fully accept that it is ok to miss my dad now even if i didn't let myself feel it for years, but i'm getting there. i have a million questions for him and I'll never get the answers. i still have to learn how to deal with it. this record hit like a ton of bricks.

so once again, after saving my ass with both badlands and manic at the most perfect time, h art came in at the right moment. i feel like something in me changed after listening to this album, exactly in the same way i felt in february. i felt my perspective shift again, for the better. I hope it'll last.

i might not be able to stitch my brain back together as fast as I'd like to, this shit will take time. i still have to fully convince myself that i can use the word 'will' instead of 'could' because i still dont really believe I'll make it lol, but one step at a time. I'm tired as fuck, but I'm trying.

i'm just so glad that i can do it while listening to the great impersonator. i needed this record so bad, it's unbelievable how someone who doesn't even know me is always able to give me exactly what i need when i need it. I'll forever be grateful for what she did and keeps doing for me through her music. this album means so much more than I'll ever be able to express

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #243

What do you want for your birthday? I think I'll get a piercing, but my mind could very well change by then.

What’s your favorite flavor of tea? I hate tea.

What’s your favorite fall drink? Hot chocolate.

What’re you going to be for Halloween? I'm not dressing up. Don't have the money to buy a costume, don't have the motivation to make one. I also don't do anything.

Do you think you’ve learned a lot and grown a lot in the past year? I don't know. I've just struggled a lot the past year. There was around a two-month period where I was in my worst mental state since the start of '17, and I've only barely improved.

Are you satisfied with how you’ve spent your year? NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Again, I've struggled. I've been particularly upset that I haven't done a photoshoot since LAST November. That was my last one. I've barely touched my camera. The few pictures I've taken, I haven't liked enough to really do anything with.

Do you have a lot of friends? No.

Do you own a yellow scarf? I don't.

Do you own anything leopard print? No, not a fan.

Will you buy a cake for your next birthday? I mean, *I* won't, but Mom probably will, unless she makes one.

Are you excited for something currently? I'm looking forward to playing more of the Silent Hill 2 remake with Girt.

If you could change just one thing about your life right now, what would it be? I just wish I was in a mentally better place. It would help me with a lot of other things.

What’s your favorite color? Pink, particularly lighter hues.

Are you artistic? I think so. I just wish I exercised that more often.

When was that last time you drew a picture in a sketchbook? A few months ago.

Is there a tree right outside your bedroom window? There is, actually. Crape myrtle tree.

Have you ever dressed up as a witch on Halloween? I have.

Have you ever been to a masquerade? No.

Do you eat vegetables? I mean, I do, but not often or with much diversity at all. I tend to not enjoy vegetables.

Is there anybody you think is hot over the age of 40? There are people in their 50s I find hot lmao

Did anything bad happen to you in August? It was either July or August when my anhedonia just got so, so much worse and I REALLY struggled to get through the day.

Who in your phone has a heart after their name? Girt.

Do you think your last ex deserves to die? No. I may not like her, at all, but no.

Do any girls like the last guy you kissed? I mean possibly? I trust Girt, though.

Have you done anything sexual today? No, it's actually been a HOT hot minute, just because I haven't been in the mood. Girt doesn't push me or complain about it, even if I have my times of worrying about not giving him enough.

Do you have a second mom? I mean, I have a stepmom. I don't see her as a "mom" to me though, my dad remarried when I was basically an adult, and besides, she's a massive fucking bigot so I struggle to bond with her properly. We're perfectly mannerly with one another, but knowing the shit she believes, it's hard to actually love her. But she makes my dad happy, and that matters to me.

Other than your name, what was the last name someone called you? Ozz. Derivative of the screenname I usually use.

If you could find one long lost friend of the past, who would it be? Megan. I shouldn't care about her, but I do.

Was your sixth grade teacher a man or a woman? I had different teachers for each class in middle school. I remember my math teacher was a male, maybe others, my middle school memories are foggy.

Have you ever had any teeth pulled? My wisdom teeth, which I only had two of.

Do you wash your hair or your body first when taking a shower? Hair.

Have you ever eaten something other people might think is gross? Sure. People hate hot dogs (even I think the concept's gross), but I like them.

When was the last time you colored with crayons? Probably sometime during a psych hospital stay.

When you were a kid, who was your best pal? Varied with grade/age. There was Brianna, Kim, Jenna, Quiata...

Have you ever been to a nursing home? Visited, yes. That's where Girt's grandma is.

Do you own any board games? Somewhere.

Were you born in the state you live in? Yes.

Have you ever lived in a house that has been broken into? No, thank fuck.

Who do you know that watches the most sports? God, probably some AWFUL in-law of Ashley's. He's such an ass, he literally comes into her house and immediately demands she turns "the game" on. I can't even remember exactly who he is, but Ash can't stand his ass, he's so rude.

Have you ever been 4-wheeling? I have.

Will you be attending any weddings in the near future? Next November my younger sister gets married, but that's not exactly the very NEAR future.

Do you live anywhere near the woods? Tragically no.

Do you have any important anniversaries you celebrate? Mine and Girt's.

What’s your favourite brand of energy drink? I don’t drink energy drinks.

Do you have (or have you ever had) acne? I did growing up. At around 17 or 18 it stopped being a big thing.

What will be the next concert you attend? Hell if I know.

Can you rap? There ain't no way in hell I could.

What do you usually order when you’re at McDonald’s? Quarter pounder or McDouble, fries, Coke.

Do you like to wear long, dangling earrings? No, I really can't. I got my lobe piercings at Claire's, which is very unprofessional, and I think they pierced too low, especially my left lobe, because the hole tore quite badly to where the hole has very nearly torn through. Dangling earrings make it worse, I think.

Do you pay any attention to your country’s politics? Mostly, I think. But it can get overwhelming, and I CERTAINLY don't know everything.

Tell me about the sickest you’ve ever felt. Probably this time I had the stomach virus super fuckin' bad, puked a lot to where barely bile would come up, and my abdominal muscles were in a lot of pain.

Any important birthdays coming up? My boyfriend's nephew's bday is next month, I go to his birthday parties.

Fireworks: yay or nay? Fireworks shouldn't be legal. They disturb the hell out of animals (some animals LITERALLY die from fear), people with trauma too, and they cause waste. It's not worth it.

Think of the last long car trip you had, where did you go? Charlotte.

Do you have a Twitter account that you use regularly? Fuck Twitter.

Have you ever seen a horseshoe crab? They’re scary, right?! I have not. I wouldn't call them scary, but their undersides can be a bit creepy with all the legs moving.

Do you like people watching and is it something you do often? If so, where are your favorite locations to do so? Not really, I just don't care.

The last time you ate leftovers, what was it that you were eating? Pizza.

What is your favorite board that you've made on Pinterest? Rammstein pics lmao

Do you get on Facebook or Instagram more? Facebook.

What was the last thing you ate or drank that was blue raspberry-flavored? Mountain Dew Voltage.

What was the last song you listened to? I'm not sure.

Have you discovered any new hobbies in the past couple months? No.

What's the wildest animal you've ever come in contact with? I'm not sure.

Do you ever question if your mother loves you? No.

What is your favorite type of Lunchables? The nachos one.

Are any of your siblings' friends like family to you? No.

Do you have any friends who you exchange memes with? Ha, Girt.

Are you in any Discord servers? How often do you use them? I'm actively in a meerkat RP one. I'm also in the Rammstein server that is primarily the Tumblr fanbase, but I'm not active there because it's too active for me to keep up, I get overwhelmed.

Have you ever had to see an emergency vet after hours? I don't think so?

When was the last time you sat under a blanket on a couch? I dunno, it's been a long time.

Can you bite into ice cream or are your teeth too sensitive? I can.

Do you know anyone who's been bitten by a snake? Maybe at one point or another.

Do you prefer strawberries or cherries? I hate cherries, meanwhile strawberries are my favorite fruit.

Biggest insecurity? My weight.

Describe your mom with one word. Selfless.

Do you like fast food or does it disgust you? I HATE how much I tend to enjoy fast food. I know it's not good for you, but.

Who was the last person you kissed? Girt.

What’s your favourite alcoholic drink? Sangrias.

Do you like the smell of BBQs? I like the smell, but hate the taste of southern BBQ. I know elsewhere a "barbecue" just means burgers and hot dogs on the grill, which I like, but southern BBQ is garbage to me, I can't eat it.

Do wasps scare you? Yes.

Have you ever worn flip flops in the snow? I sure have lmfao. Not very heavy snow, though. And I wouldn't if I was STAYING in the snow for more than a minute.

Have you ever heard people having sex in the next room? Yes.

Have you ever been in a beauty pageant? Thank fuck no.

Have you ever lost your voice? Yes. This happened bad the first time I had Covid.

Did you ever have an emo or scene phase? Emo, yes.

Could you see yourself having a child with the last person you kissed? We don't want kids.

Which of the guys you’ve been interested in hurt you the most? Jason.

Do you know anyone who is engaged? Yes, my younger sister is among them.

What are you listening to? A John Wolfe let's play of Red Dead Redemption 2.

What was the last thing you looked up on Google? How to get the "Leave" ending in the SH2 remake to see if it's changed from the base game and just as a reminder since there are multiple factors. When Girt and I played the OG, I aimed us for "In Water" since it's my favorite, so I want him to see a new one.

Ever been kissed on the leg? I mean probably.

Do you think you are ready to be on your own (have your own home, job, etc.)? I very firmly believe I could never survive living solely on my own for many reasons.

Are you friends with someone who’s autistic? Yes.

Have you ever had a Big Mac? No, considering I don't like lettuce on my burgers.

[loser-female]

Nothing, just every time I sit around to think about ADHD I inevitably see all the abuse I've been through in front of my eyes again.

Now I just want to go cry in a corner.

The truth is that... I don't have any superpowers. I'm a 2x dropout. I cannot remember years of my life and the memories i have are extremely fragmented and difficult to put together. If I didn't have ADHD I wouldn't have been abused causing trauma that will never go away. I barely graduated high school - it took me 7 years instead of 5, I was too depressed to get out of bed at a certain point -and for some reason I thought I could do physics. And I can understand very difficult concepts, they don't fly over my head. But my country universities are completely unstructured. I got told "do these things in a three months time", so I couldn't keep up (and I also had chronic pain). I just cannot. I need a degree to keep going with my career but at this point I 100% believe it's over my possibilities, so I don't think I will ever reach the role of a SOC manager or a CISO.

I struggle daily to daily because all my energy goes to my job and when I'm done I'm exhausted. I have to make my boyfriend that does a physical heavy job (he is a factory worker) do 70% of the stuff because I just cannot. I do want to, but everything goes out of the window because I spent my whole day trying to focus. And he needs to double check because I forget. I forget to do laundry, I forget to take out the laundry and it then smells bad and I need to rewash it, then I forget it again. I don't miss my cats stuff because they are annoying.

While I'm actively monitoring I sometimes forget what I'm doing. And with sometimes I mean twice a day. Then I remembered and I have 10 alerts to analyse and then I get distracted again. It doesn't compromise the quality of my analysis for a miracle. Because I triple check everything, but I'm slower than my coworkers.

I called a customer yesterday because I contained his asset from the network (which is a very invasive operation) and I couldn't remember for the sake of my life if he disabled the email only or the whole o365 account. I still don't know. And it's a problem because I need to report to my coworkers and I will definitely look like an idiot if I gave them the wrong information. (They know about my ADHD and are very understanding)

I say"I need to reply to that email" and it's four months and now it's unacceptable to do this.

I recently failed a job interview because I forgot crucial information at the wrong time. I rely a lot on my notes and mindmaps which are great if you do intelligence analysis, but not that great when people expect you to remember everything.

I forgot to pay my water bill for 6 months because it got lost. I misplaced it, everyone thought it was being paid and it wasn't. (Idk how I didn't get my water shut off. Learned my lesson and now it get out directly from my bank account).

I forget to call my family for weeks because to me time makes no sense. Which is the reason why I struggle so much with my very necessary self study things. I need to get them done. I don't have the brain parts required to do that.

It's so awful, I get help but it cannot change the biology of my brain. I hope I will get some sort of "cure", although I rationally know it's impossible.

I'm scared to have kids because no way I'm condemning someone else to the amount of daily struggle I have. Especially my own child!

This is what living with ADHD actually looks like. Failing over and over again, and if you have good people around they will not mind that much, but I admit I wouldn't give me half of the slack my loved ones do to me. It's not the secret of any success, it doesn't make me "creative" or anything. In fact, I would have written how much stuff if I could finish what I start! How many things could I have done! I'd be a physics professor now. I'd have a PhD or something. I wouldn't have lost a decade of my life (1/3 of my life) to depression and anxiety.

Not that I have a bad job, I love my job, I earn more than I would have if I actually stayed in physics. even if things turned good for me that doesn't mean I don't miss what I could have been.